


Take Me To Encanto Oculto

by PotteredUp



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Quentin Coldwater, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Emotional Intimacy, First Time, Forehead Kisses, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Minor Marqueliot, No Beast AU, Oblivious Eliot Waugh, Oral Sex, Orgy, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Rimming, Season 1, Sex Magic, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Spin the Bottle, Spring Break, Vacation, encanto oculto, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotteredUp/pseuds/PotteredUp
Summary: When Quentin returns from Brakebills South without a girlfriend, a pining Eliot makes a split second decision to invite him along on their annual trip to Ibiza. Taking your easily spooked crush to a magic sex festival is definitely a good idea when you’re convinced that he will never want you back.Slow burn sexual tension and vacation hijinks from Eliot’s perspective, for anyone who needs more excuses to see these two finally get together. Bonus points if you were supposed to be relaxing on a beach right now.COMPLETE
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 166
Kudos: 304





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> My summer vacation got cancelled due to *motions wildly at the state of the world* so I am living vicariously through my favorite The Magicians characters by sending them to an island resort. 
> 
> Some elements are from the books, but most of this is inspired by the TV show. There are a few brief mentions of malnourishment following Quentin’s return from his Brakebills South exam as it happened in the books. 
> 
> This will get smuttier later in the story, so keep an eye out for potential changes in the tags and rating as I complete more chapters.

Eliot and Margo were having drinks and soaking up the magic-induced sunshine on the back patio of the Physical Kids Cottage when out of nowhere, a portal opened up and delivered what could only be described as a gift. A shivering, naked Quentin Coldwater tumbled down onto the soft grass in a puff of snowflakes just as the portal closed up and his shaking legs gave out from under him.

Right away, Eliot’s heart leapt up into his throat in response. After weeks of not having his favorite first year around, he’d grown comfortable with the idea that Quentin wouldn’t be able to sneak up on him for a while. Something about the guy kept El on edge, like he always wanted to be perfectly poised and in control of himself when Q was watching. After a brief moment, Eliot took a deep breath and relaxed back into his seat as if nothing worth mentioning had happened.

Margo, however, engaged with their friend immediately. “Welcome back, Jack Frost,” she reacted with a wry smile, always quick to seize an opportunity when she was presented with one. She leaned forward in her lawn chair to get a better look at the slightly frozen boy whose skin was completely bare except for the scratchy, moth-eaten blanket that had been hastily thrown over his shoulders just before he made his exit from Brakebills South.

Q’s whole face displayed a look of complete and utter relief at the drastic change in temperature from his previous location. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to be embarrassed but then he realized that he simply didn’t have the energy for it. As his full-body shakes began to subside, he held onto the blanket and concentrated on taking deep breaths to fill his lungs with warm air.

For some reason, Eliot’s gut reaction when he registered Q’s state of undress was to avert his eyes. This made no sense to El, since it was the last thing he expected to do when he finally had a chance to see this particular classmate with his clothes off. In a quick rush of panic, he looked over at Margo instead, who was thoroughly enjoying this random twist of fate. She shot a quick glare back at him, encouraging him to play it cool and join in on the fun.

Eliot would be lying through his teeth if he said that he hadn’t been pining at least a little bit since the first time Quentin broke through the Brakebills wards and crossed the lawn with that perfectly bewildered look on his face. He took one look at Eliot and asked him if he was hallucinating. And while El normally had no trouble getting romantic attention from whoever he wanted, his attraction to Q was different. They had a connection that went beyond anything he was used to feeling with anyone but Margo. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, Eliot wanted more than just kisses and sex with Quentin and it terrified the hell out of him.

After a minute or so, his own curiosity got the better of him and Eliot flicked his eyes over to where Quentin was breathing carefully, slowly warming up in the sunlight. He had snow in his hair that was starting to melt and he still didn’t seem to care that he was exposed; presumably, his survival instincts were still in charge of his limbs.

It occurred to Eliot that Q was probably starving; he was skinnier than El had ever seen him. So before he could think up some kind of quip in response to yet another ridiculous Brakebills situation, Eliot got up to grab a blanket from the bench next to him and rushed over to where Quentin sat on the soft grass.

“You opted in to the final exam, I’m assuming?” Eliot asked as he unfolded the blanket with a flourish and did a slightly more successful job of covering up Quentin’s shivering form, then he started to rub his back to warm him up.

Q’s eyes flitted around for a second, blinking away the ice crystals on his eyelashes as they started to melt. He nodded quickly, and Eliot could tell the exact moment when Quentin became self-conscious about his lack of clothing because he started gripping at both blankets frantically.

El took a breath. “Well, I’m impressed. Last year, I told that asshole professor there’s no way I’d be trekking across a frozen tundra in my birthday suit, no matter how much warmth and endurance magic I knew I was perfectly capable of conjuring up,” he said, continuing to fill the silence.

Since he was still adjusting to life on the northern hemisphere, Quentin didn’t really respond, so Eliot looked back over at Margo. She shrugged and took a sip of her drink, content to let Eliot handle this one since they apparently wouldn’t be taking their usual teasing route. El was grateful, as always, that he and his Bambi could communicate without saying a word. Even when they had different opinions about approach, they usually knew which page the other was on.

“I’m going to get you some food and dry clothes while you warm up. Stay here, okay?” Eliot asked with a gentle raise of his eyebrows, making sure that his words had a chance to sink in. He squeezed Q’s shoulder to make sure.

Quentin looked up at him as he came around to the idea of interacting with other humans for the first time in over a week, giving Eliot the most grateful puppy dog eyes. “Thanks, El,” he whispered. His voice was raspy with disuse.

With that, Eliot practically melted. He didn’t like seeing Q in pain like this; his whole being reacted viscerally to every shiver and flinch, which is why he’d immediately launched into caretaking mode. Brushing Quentin’s hair back briefly, he leaned in to press his mouth against Q’s forehead before running inside to the kitchen to pull together three bowls of something warm and comforting for them to eat.

For the next hour, Eliot, Quentin, and Margo sat outside eating homemade pasta. Q initially declined the offer to get dressed since he didn’t trust his shaking arms to handle the task and he felt pretty okay with just the blankets in the meantime. El did his best to assist with any fork-related maneuvering issues so Q could keep himself covered.

Margo occasionally tested the waters with probing questions about Q’s time at Brakebills South, since she could only ignore her curiosity for so long. She started off with more tame topics like, “Are the uniforms still those god-awful cream wool sweatsuits?” and, “On a scale of 1-10, how appalling was Mayakovsky’s breath?” which occasionally got a very gentle, shoulder-quaking laugh out of Quentin, as if anything stronger would hurt his exhausted lungs.

It only took a little while before Q was chatting happily with them again, giving Margo the cue that it was okay to dig for the more juicy details. “So who hooked up?” she tossed out there.

Quentin promptly spit out the water he’d been drinking, managing to turn his head away from Eliot just in time. It took everything El had in him to keep the obvious joke about spitting versus swallowing to himself.

“What? I’m expected to know these things,” she reasoned in response to her request for gossip, barely attempting to hide a smirk behind her martini glass.

Eliot leaned closer to Quentin now that he was confident he wouldn’t be in the splash zone and withheld the forkful of noodles he was about to extend. “You don’t have to answer that,” El insisted in a lawyerly tone, then added, “But we really would like to know. We’ve been wondering all week. We’re only human.”

Quentin rolled his eyes and dramatically tilted his eyebrows upwards in the center, looking as tortured as possible. “Is it really that important?” he whined.

Such a brat. Eliot couldn’t resist him. “We’ll find out sooner or later; this way, you have control over the perspective,” El stated plainly, then finally gave up and let Quentin have the bite he’d been holding hostage.

With a huff, Quentin swallowed the food and admitted, “We were foxes. It just kind of happened. But that was it; it didn’t happen again.”

“You and...” Margo nudged him forward with a circular open hand gesture.

Q sunk his head down into the blanket cave he was wrapped in and murmured a muffled, “Aaaalice?”

“And there it is.” “Called it!”

He lifted his face back up, ready to defend himself. “Hey! It was just pheromones; when we changed back, we agreed it would be better to just stay friends,” Q insisted.

“Okay,” Margo let it go. “She beat you home by like two whole days, by the way.”

“Not surprised,” Quentin sighed, hoping desperately that this would mark the end of that particular line of conversation.

“At least you don’t have to go back there anytime soon,” Eliot said with a smile as he returned the fork to Quentin’s empty bowl, then put them both down so he could hand Q his half-full glass of water. “Here, drink the rest of this. If you think you can walk, I could run you a warm bath?” he offered, attempting to ignore the stomach flip that came along with that entire idea.

Quentin nearly choked at the suggestion, then leveled himself as he wiped the drip on his chin with one of the blankets. “That’s um, probably a good idea. Worth a try, I guess?” he said quietly and then he somewhat awkwardly went back to sucking cool water through the straw in the glass Eliot was holding out for him.

It was not uncommon for Quentin to get visibly flustered around Eliot, but El had a rough time deducing whether it was due to straight boy panic or the very slim chance that Q was queer, interested, and nervous about it.

In the past, Eliot had put those theories to the test by making a bold move and gauging the morning-after reaction of the boy in question, but he was not at all mentally prepared to lose this sweet, adorable human if things went south. He _liked_ being friends with Quentin. Q made him laugh. So if for now, that meant resisting the urge to press his compact little body into the wall and lick into his cute mouth, then that’s the way things would have to be.

“Here,” Eliot said, putting their dishes to the side and jumping to his feet. “Lean on me,” he insisted as he reached down and grabbed hold of what he assumed were Q’s forearms beneath the blanket.

“Okay,” Q grunted as he managed to stand up and keep himself mostly covered.

On their way back into the Physical Kids cottage, El bent down to grab the clothes he’d brought outside for Quentin and led him up to the second floor bathroom which luckily happened to be vacant. They filed inside together, surrounded by blue walls, white tile, and a big mirror in an antique frame. Eliot placed Quentin’s bundle of clothes on the clean countertop as he made his way to the tub. 

“How do you like your baths? Warm or hot? Bubbles or salts?” Eliot asked, again falling so easily into his preferred role as host as he laid out a clean towel on the floor and started to run some water into the tub. It was easier to do that than to focus on the idea that Quentin would be taking those blankets off right here, very soon.

Speaking of which, Q seemed very overwhelmed by the idea that Eliot was doing something so intimate for him. It was written all over his face as he mumbled and babbled a whole lot of nothing in response. “Oh, I, uh, on the hotter side, I guess? I don’t need anything fancy,” Quentin finally decided as he looked around for a way to make himself useful that didn’t include watching El fuss over him.

“Q. You just spent a whole week by yourself, running across an arctic tundra on your bare feet. I think you earned something a little more extravagant,” El said as he went through some glass bottles of various bath supplies and made the decisions on his own. He added a few nice-smelling things to the bath, rolled up one sleeve, and stirred the water up to his elegant forearm.

“You know, you don’t have to do this for me,” Quentin said quietly in his spot over by the bathroom door, looking a little embarrassed.

With that, Eliot determined that the tub was full enough and turned the spigots to stop the water. He got up, dried his hand on another clean towel, and walked over to where Q was standing. “Don’t be silly. It’s already done,” El replied. And with that, he patted Quentin on the back of his shoulder and stepped around him to make his exit. “You’d better relax in there! I mean it,” he insisted, pointing at Quentin for emphasis. When he looked back, Quentin was looking down at his bare feet on the tile floor, and from what he could tell, Q was blushing.

As Eliot walked out into the hallway to give Quentin some privacy, he heard a quiet little, “Okay, El,” and then the door clicked shut.

* * *

Over the next few days, Eliot noticed that Q was slowly getting his strength and energy back. After being a little pushy about making sure his friend ate consistently, El noticed that he wasn’t as malnourished as he was after dropping out of thin air wrapped in a blanket. And even though Quentin still slept a lot, he was starting to spend his free time in the common areas of the cottage again.

This afternoon was one such occasion, where a busy-as-always Eliot peered over from the dining room and saw Q sitting on the couch with a textbook cracked open in his lap.

“How many bathing suits did you pack?” Margo asked as she walked down the stairs, clearly in need of some guidance from Eliot who was leaning over his current project on the table.

“One per day. I end up taking it off by noon at Encanto Oculto anyway,” El called up casually as he rummaged through a box of spell ingredients.

Margo bit her full bottom lip, considering his words. “I think I might bring more. You know me; I love a midday costume change,” she said.

“Well when you’re done, I could use your help with the regalo. I’m not getting it quite right on my own,” Eliot mentioned, returning his focus to the task in front of him.

With a wink, Margo turned and headed back upstairs to her suitcase.

Now that he had the dining room to himself again, Eliot closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He centered himself, lifted his hands, and began the tricky incantation once again. Everything was going just as he’d planned; the finger movements, the words he called out, even the circumstances suggested that it should work this time. But as he finished, that familiar rush of static energy and the warm tug behind his ribs he felt whenever he’d succeeded in casting a spell was nowhere to be found.

He opened his eyes and studied the bowls, crystals, and markings in front of him, desperately searching for a sign that he’d completed the enchantment. But when he picked up the seemingly ordinary stone bookend that sat in the center of the table in front of him, it was pretty obvious that the spell-work hadn’t stuck.

“Do you think it just needs more power?” came a familiarly sweet voice from out of nowhere. 

Eliot prided himself on his ability to maintain the illusion that nothing ever phased or excited him, but he couldn’t suppress the current smile on his face. Ever since Quentin had returned from the Brakebills satellite campus, it felt like he’d been looking for excuses to spend time with Eliot. From what El gathered, Q really loved being taken care of and Eliot had done that without question when his friend needed help getting back on his feet.

So now, here was Quentin, not really needing to be fussed over anymore but clinging to their newfound closeness anyway. It filled El up with... something. Satisfaction? Happiness? Relief? Either way, he wasn’t used to feeling like this. And that made it ten times harder for Eliot to tell Quentin that now he would be leaving on a trip.

Quentin, who had likely been watching Eliot’s most recent spell attempt, moved closer to the table. “Everything looked pretty good to me. I know I’m not, y’know, the best at this, but maybe you just need a jump? Professor Sunderland was talking earlier about collaborative casting and how two, even three magicians can easily pull off something only one can’t. I-I can probably help. Tell me what you’re trying to do?” he asked, doe-eyed and rambling and clearly hoping to be included. Q’s love of magic was incredibly endearing; even when he had no clue what he was stepping into, he wanted to be a part of it.

After a few seconds, Eliot beckoned him over and jumped back into business mode. “Okay okay, come here. I’m enchanting this sculpture to prevent STDs from transmitting within a twenty foot radius of this,” he said, then he motioned towards the heavy decoration on the dining room table.

Q walked up to get a closer look. Eliot was casting on one half of a set of pretty solid bookends, meant to prop things up on shelves. It had been carved to look like a shield, which tickled Q for whatever reason. “A shield! Clever,” Quentin commented with a tiny huff of a laugh, then his face began to turn red. “I um, I get the allure of... that... but the cottage is bigger than that; do you think we should increase the reach?”

“Oh! It’s not for the cottage, though we probably could use one with the level of sexual activity in this discipline,” Eliot corrected, filing that idea away for later when he’d realized that he hadn’t fully explained his task to the admittedly clueless first year. “It’s a gift for the elders running Encanto Oculto, for them to use at their orgies. Margo and I are headed to Ibiza for the festival starting tomorrow and we need something that can get close to the working bag of dicks we brought them last year.”

El looked up from his work for a moment to study Quentin’s face and found him attempting to wrap his mind around the array of surprising mental images Eliot’s explanation presented. He loved the way Q found it utterly impossible to hide the emotions on his face.

“...Um, sorry, what kind of festival?” Quentin asked, deciding to start with the least embarrassing of his undeniably long list of questions.

“Encanto Oculto. It’s a magician festival on the beautiful island of Ibiza, full of glorious temptations of all flavors. Sunshine. Drinks. Drugs. Hotties. Sex magic flowing everywhere like you’ve never felt in your life. Margo and I go every year,” Eliot responded like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t been avoiding telling Quentin about the vacation all week. He knew it was definitely not Q’s scene, but he was still a little sad to be leaving him so soon after getting him back from Mayakovsky.

“Oh!” Quentin said, pausing for a second to take that in. “So, erm, what’s the spell?”

Eliot grabbed his open notebook and quickly passed it to Quentin, not giving himself a chance to picture what Q would look like on a beach full of naked magicians. “Right. Here. Like I said, pretty sure I’ve got it all worked out, but if you want to try and cast it together, maybe that will help,” El said.

The guy took the notebook in his just impressively large hands; strong, sturdy things that had no business being on someone so small. Q studied the handwritten notes carefully, putting a little crease between his eyebrows and absently moving his mouth around the words as he read them.

After a moment or two, Quentin put the notebook down on the table and began to take stock of Eliot’s placement of ingredients and crystals around the sculpture. He absent-mindedly started moving his fingers to warm them up for the tuts he’d just memorized, counting every last detail to double-check in case Eliot had made a mistake somewhere along the way.

“Looks okay to me, um, should we try it together now?” Quentin asked when he was satisfied, then he looked up at Eliot with his kind, curious brown eyes.

With a nod, Eliot grounded his stance and held his hands up in the ready position. Q gave his own hands a final shake as he walked to the place opposite him and indicated that he was ready to start.

If Eliot thought he could barely handle watching Quentin’s hands hold a notebook, forget being able to concentrate once Q started casting with him. And once the rush of power coursed through his veins as the magic took hold around them, he was done for. Eliot tried desperately to keep his mind focused on the finger positioning and the incantations he’d written down, but the way Quentin kept _looking_ at him after being so eager to help with the spell was so much to handle. And frankly, the feeling of Q’s magic surrounding him and intermingling with his own was fucking incredible.

So when they got to the end of the spell, the whole thing just sort of fizzed out.

For a second, they froze there, staring at each other and holding the last Popper. Maybe they were hoping the spark would come back, or maybe Eliot wasn’t the only one who’d been totally swept up in the bliss of performing collaborative magic.

Eliot was the first to drop his hands, gently, when it was clear that this attempt wasn’t going to work either. But he was too overcome with emotion to launch into some excuse for the failure. It felt like something between awe and guilt over how it felt to cast with Quentin and the fact that it hadn’t worked. The magic they’d made together was unlike anything Eliot had ever experienced. Still, El felt like he had to say something. He felt like he needed to acknowledge it. “Q, I...”

“It’s okay. We’ll try again later, maybe with Margo too?” Quentin said, oddly optimistic for someone who seemed so sad half the time. Maybe he was just used to not being able to cast correctly on the first try. Maybe he hadn’t experienced the same feeling of absolute euphoria followed by the letdown of after having it ripped out from under him.

Maybe Eliot shouldn’t say anything about it at all. If he didn’t acknowledge it out loud, it couldn’t hurt him. He settled on a cool, “Thanks for trying,” then began to reset the spell for another go so everything would be ready once Margo was done packing.

“Hey, um, how does getting into this festival work? Are there like, tickets or -” Q asked, absently picking at the edge of the old table with his giant man hands.

The corner of Eliot’s mouth quirked up. Was that a tiny ray of hope just now? “It’s invitation only,” El started.

Quentin shrunk down at least two inches in height. “Oh,” he said.

“Why do you ask?” Eliot wondered out loud, even though he could probably guess why. He just preferred to make Q work for things. Quentin was so stubborn about avoiding saying what he meant out loud, especially if he was feeling at least a little embarrassed.

“Uh, is it not... you know,” he started, hoping that Eliot would save him from having to say this out loud. With the cutest furrow of his brow, Q looked around the room, anywhere but at Eliot. “It’s nothing, I uh, I just... I’ve never been to a magician festival before. Or really, anywhere magic except for Brakebills. Even if, you know, there are... ,” Quentin rambled, waving his giant man hands wildly and trying to avoid saying the word _orgies_ and then skipping over it entirely. “I just, um, it sounds like an adventure?” Q settled on that, and then he finally looked up at El with those pleading brown eyes.

Eliot could absolutely not resist anymore, so he swallowed and shook off the voice saying that this was a bad idea. “Do you want me to invite you to Encanto Oculto, Quentin?” he asked in a low voice like it wasn’t a big deal at all for him. As if it were just the easiest thing in the world for Eliot to invite his crush to a week-long sex party, fully accepting the fact that the guy probably wouldn’t want to have sex with _him_ there.

With that, Q’s whole face erupted into the brightest smile El had ever seen him make. “Could you?! I - I - I mean, is that okay?” Quentin asked excitedly.

“Well technically, since our gift pleased the elders last year, I can bring whoever I want,” El said, playing it cool as he walked around the table to get closer to where Quentin was standing. “And there is a sizable couch in the living room of our suite, if you’re okay not having your own bedroom. We’d have to check with Bambi, of course, but as long as you’re comfortable with the amount of sex both of your suite-mates will be having with various festival-goers at all hours, I don’t see why you couldn’t tag along to see what all the fuss is about.”

“I mean, if I’d get in your way, maybe I shouldn’t -”

Eliot laughed, but probably not for a reason he’d say out loud. “Oh, Q. Nothing could keep me from living my best life in a place like that. It’s complete and utter paradise and pretty much everyone is game for a good time. Please don’t worry about that,” he insisted.

With a little peek down at his shoes, Quentin raised his eyebrows. He looked so hopeful. “Would, um. We get to hang out too? When you’re not...” Q asked, so careful with his words.

Trying not to read too much into that, Eliot replied with a quick, “Yeah! I’ll be around, Q. Breakfast and hangover cures every late morning in the suite, though don’t you dare wake me up before 10am. And I’m sure I’ll be getting in some quality time at the pool and the beach that you’re welcome to join me for.”

Q was practically beaming at him. He leapt across the final distance, hugging Eliot around his middle.

Before El had even fully considered how he should react to the sudden contact, he was touching Quentin’s hair and taking a deep breath and absorbing the rush of endorphins the closeness gave him.

Then, Q launched backwards again to where he had been standing, eager to prepare for the last-minute vacation. “Okay, cool. So, I should pack?” Quentin half-asked as he pointed up at the stairs towards his room.

It took a moment for Eliot’s brain to catch up with the hug being over, but then he continued on like it was no big deal. “The sluttier the better. You’re not going to a job interview at a coffee shop in November, Coldwater. Cute bathing suits - no cargo shorts, ugh. A few nice outfits for fancy dinners out. Actually, you know what, no, you can’t be trusted to do this yourself; I’m coming with you,” Eliot insisted, leading Quentin up the stairs.

“Oh! Um, alright then,” Q said, a bit flustered as he was basically pushed up to the second floor.

This was going to be so much fun.

“What’s going on out there?” Margo called from her bedroom.

Eliot, who could barely suppress the grin on his face now, told Q to get started and that he’d meet him there and then he leaned into Margo’s doorway. “What would you say to Quentin possibly coming to Ibiza with us?” he asked quietly, making sure that Q was out of earshot.

Lowering her eyebrows, Margo reached over to grab the front of El’s waistcoat and tugged him into her room. “Door?” she asked.

Eliot clicked it shut behind him telekinetically and looked into her eyes, waiting to hear her take on what he had just done.

As soon as it was closed, Margo put her sound wards up. “Are you sure this is a good idea, El?” she asked, gently. Bambi rarely did _anything_ gently.

“It’ll be fine. He just... seemed really excited when I told him about it,” Eliot said.

“And you can’t resist that face,” she sighed.

“I... definitely cannot,” he confirmed, glad to be around someone who loved him for everything he was. He knew he didn’t need to hide from Margo, which was a relief since he spent so much time hiding from himself.

Margo climbed around her suitcase to sit up against her headboard, patting the spot next to her on the bed to encourage Eliot to join her. He did, arranging his long limbs around the luggage and cuddling up against her. One leg hung off the edge of the bed.

She took a breath, considering the situation. “Does he actually want to play? What’s his angle here?” Margo asked, wrapping an arm around Eliot and carefully playing with his dark curls.

“He just wants to... see magic in another context. He said it would be an _adventure_ ,” Eliot said. There was no doubt in his mind that Quentin would be avoiding the sexier side of the festival, giving Eliot and Margo more than enough space to bang whoever they pleased.

“I’m worried about you, El. Are you going to have any fun if your boy is hanging around? Kissing other people in front of you? Waiting up for you to come back to the room?” she made her point, letting her hand come to rest on his upper arm.

Eliot thought about it for a second. “I have _plenty_ of fun with plenty of people here when he’s around. It won’t be a big deal. Plus, think about how great it’ll be to watch him squirm when he accidentally ends up walking through a Green or Yellow zone and tries to pretend he did it on purpose because he’s _totally_ cool with public nudity,” El pleaded.

She chuckled, trying to suppress a smile. “Okay. If you say so,” she said after thinking it through for a moment. “But I will not be toning it down for his benefit.” Margo held up one brightly manicured finger for emphasis.

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do that,” Eliot promised. “And he’s happy just crashing on our couch.”

“I still say he’s more interested in you than you think he is,” Margo said. “Bisexual disaster, that one. I’ve called it before, I’m calling it again.”

“He definitely isn’t into me,” Eliot countered. It had _nothing_ to do with the fact that El had let the boy wriggle his way too far into his heart to risk losing him as a friend. He _wasn’t_ refusing to see what was right in front of him because the idea of getting rejected by Quentin was more than he could handle. At this point, it was just easier for Eliot to pretend that Q was straight and clueless. “But I am more than capable of pining while being a really fucking good friend.”

After a moment, Margo let the smile out. “I do like him, you know,” she admitted. “I’m just looking out for you.”

El sat up, turning to look her in the eye again. “What would I do without you?” he sighed, unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of love he felt for her all the time. It practically poured out of him when he was with her.

“Well, you’re stuck with me so you’re never gonna find out. Now go save him from his closet,” she said, gracefully accepting the kiss on the mouth he gave her before he ducked out of the room and went back to playfully teasing Q about his clothing choices.

Rolling her eyes, Margo held back a laugh. She’d left them alone for all of _ten minutes_. “You’d better be in the mood for fun, Quentin,” she called out, then she went back to packing the giant suitcase on her bed.

Once all three of them had finished packing for the trip, Margo joined them in casting the STD shield enchantment collaboratively. This time, it worked.


	2. Cold Water

“Quentin Coldwater, welcome to Encanto Oculto,” Eliot said. He watched as Q followed him through the portal, instantly shielding his eyes from the glittering sunshine.

Once they’d all made it out of Brakebills successfully, El began walking arm-in-arm with Margo. The two of them were dressed perfectly for a sexy resort vacation as their rolling suitcases magically followed behind them. Quentin, who had reluctantly opted for a more summery version of his existing style, cautiously took in his surroundings with his mouth hanging open and tried to keep up.

Maybe it was the weather or the magic, but everything around them seemed intensely colorful. The ocean, the decor, even the soft white sand seemed to glow. They followed an impeccably painted white wooden walkway to the main entrance where they were scanned for magical ability. They registered their status as two returning legends and one curious but slightly nervous invited guest. Then, the three of them were given a unique sigil they could use to unlock the door to their suite and charge purchases to their tab.

After handing off their luggage to be delivered and placing their regalo alongside the rest of the gifts for the elders, Margo and Eliot led the way to the hotel while making sure that Quentin didn’t wander too far from them.

Eliot noticed Q checking out a floating red banner waving in the wind that didn’t seem to be attached to anything and began to explain as they passed it. “Each private guest area is color coded with a stoplight system by comfort level. Red for kissing and cuddling only, at least a bathing suit is required. In a Yellow zone, nudity is fine but you’re supposed to keep your paws above the belt.”

“As for the Green areas, anything goes, as long as you have enthusiastic consent, of course. Know the system so you can go where you’re comfortable. Break a rule, see what happens,” Margo dared him, taking over for Eliot.

Turning back to Quentin behind him, El winced a little. “I know it’s shocking coming from me, but I would personally not recommend breaking the rules. Just relocate if things get a little heavy for your zone,” he said, lowering his voice.

“You’re no fun,” Margo said, giving Eliot’s elbow a tug as they walked.

“There are beaches, pools, 24 hour nightclubs, and a magical twist on your typical resort activities, all color coded by level of nudity and sexual activity. After 2am, all zones turn to Green, so if you’re not cool with that, head back to the hotel room,” El continued.

Next, they passed through a Yellow zone, marked by an arch of floating yellow lanterns blowing in the wind. Giving a glance back, Eliot caught Quentin blushing and averting his eyes away from a group of naked women drinking by the pool, deep in discussion.

“If you’re gonna dabble in magical substances while you’re here, let Eliot know so he can keep an eye on you because that shit can go wrong real fast if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Margo said.

“Truth. Also so I can share. I want in on whatever it is,” El confirmed without skipping a beat.

Q opened his eyes long enough to notice that they had reached a tall building and he looked up again so he could take it all in. “Is this where we’re staying?” he asked, mesmerized.

“Yep. Most guests stay at the hotel like we are, but there are also villas and cabins on the grounds in case you decide to go back with anyone,” Margo said as two grand doors opened for them and they headed into the magically temperature controlled lobby.

Eliot took the lead as he removed his sunglasses and brought his friends to the elevators, past a truly massive stone fountain where the water was shooting upwards into the pool of a matching fountain hanging from the ceiling. He filed the three of them into the next open elevator and traced their group sigil onto the wall inside.

Predictably, Quentin was not prepared for all of the directions the elevator took them. It went up for only a second before it shifted diagonally and then off to the left. When a tiny bell chimed and the doors opened, they stepped out into a small hallway where one single door waited for them.

“Okay, you’re up, Q. Practice the sigil while we’re all together or else you won’t be able to get back up here,” Margo said, guiding Quentin ahead of them with a nudge in the back.

With a tilt of his head, El watched Q shake out his hands and mutter to himself for a second before he stepped up to the door and copied the mark they’d been assigned. Eliot noted to himself that his work was a little sloppy, but apparently it was good enough for their hotel suite because the door clicked open to let them inside. Before they went in, Quentin turned around to look up at Eliot, like he wanted permission to enter. So fucking endearing.

“Nice work. Just make sure you can do it while you’re wasted and have three women trying to pull your clothes off. Then, you’ll be all set,” El said, pushing past and heading into the suite.

Eliot claimed the smaller of the two bedrooms, placing his sunglasses on a dresser and finding his suitcase already waiting for him by the bed. Though, curiously, Quentin’s duffel was in here as well. “Was it that obvious, bellhop?” he barely said out loud before he grabbed the strap and carried it out to the main area.

Then, he took a moment to survey the rest of the room. It was swanky and spacious enough, with a small kitchenette, a minibar, and a generous couch where Quentin had already made himself at home. Magical hotels had many benefits including being able to expand their square footage from the inside. El dropped the duffel bag onto the coffee table and sat down next to him, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “There’s your stuff. So I think I’m going to get changed and head down to one of the pools for a drink. I assume Bambi’s already -”

“See you dicks later,” she called as a half naked blur of a Margo practically flew by them and left the hotel room. Quentin was blinking and staring straight ahead at the wall in response.

“And then there were two. Anyway, I’m happy sticking with your comfort level for right now while you’re getting your bearings - which color zone are you feeling?” El asked, cool as a cucumber, trying to pretend like he wasn’t two inches away from resting his arm on Q’s shoulders. He really could just lean in and lick his earlobe and it would be so easy. Quentin would probably squeak in response. Jesus, the residual sex magic in the air here was no joke. They’d been on the property for ten minutes and already, Eliot’s libido was off the charts.

Q licked his lips, still not making eye contact and pulling at the neckline of his t-shirt. “Uh, maybe Red to start? I don’t know if I... um. Is there a thermostat in here?” Quentin asked, getting up from the couch to investigate.

Well, that was interesting. Probably nothing. Eliot tried not to think too hard about the fact that Q apparently couldn’t get far enough away from him, so he stood up as well.

“Red works for a bit. There’s a really great Red level pool nearby with a waterfall and a killer bar. See you in a few?” Eliot said smoothly, then he slipped into his room to get changed.

El’s approach to dressing on this trip was the same as it always was; to communicate that he was confident and interesting and to encourage people to check him out. Here, however, he got away with wearing a lot less, so he squeezed his junk into a tiny, form-fitting set of swim shorts. If Quentin hadn’t been here, he likely would’ve gone out in just that, but he slipped on a lightweight silk robe just to give him a bit of cover on the way down to the pool. He left it hanging open, giving a nice view of his lightly groomed chest hair, and stepped into some sandals.

With one last look into the mirror, Eliot gave his curly hair a quick ruffle and grabbed his sunglasses and the bag of beach essentials he had packed. Then, he headed back out to wait for Q.

Quentin ended up wearing a not entirely awful pair of swim trunks with a t-shirt and some flip flops, which, fine. As long as he lost the shirt before going swimming, Eliot acknowledged that it was marginally acceptable. His favorite part, though, was that Q had pulled his hair back into a little bun.

“Ready?” El asked.

“Yeah, almost!” Q said as he chose a book to tuck into his beach tote. Eliot could tell that he was considering bringing a second and walked over to run interference.

He placed his hand on Quentin’s to block him. “Maybe just the one, yeah? You said you wanted to see what magicians outside of Brakebills were like, so you might want to actually talk to some,” Eliot reminded him.

To El’s relief, Q put the second book back. “Yeah, you’re right. Ready now,” Quentin said, and before Eliot could talk himself out of it, he looped his arm around Q’s and tugged him out of the room. Luckily, Quentin didn’t seem to mind.

The sunshine was warm and comforting, and that combined with the magic in the air encouraged Eliot to get out of his head and enjoy himself. There were more than enough free loungers by the waterfall pool beneath the red banners, so they claimed a pair and sat down.

“First things first - I burn like a lobster, can you get my back?” Eliot said, tossing a bottle of sunscreen onto the lounge chair Quentin was sitting on, then dropping his robe and turning his back to his friend. This left him in nothing but his Ray-Ban sunglasses and the tight bathing suit that left little to the imagination, but the fact that he was sitting and turned away made that less obvious.

Q took the bottle without question, squeezing some lotion into his hands and tentatively starting to rub it onto Eliot’s shoulders.

Well, this. _This_ was heaven. Eliot couldn’t believe he hadn’t had the idea to trick Q into doing this for him sooner. Those big, square hands felt incredible against his muscles and the fact that Q didn’t even protest before jumping at the opportunity to help him was _something_. This one was a keeper.

Two minutes into the task, however, something occurred to Quentin. “Isn’t there like, a spell for this?” Q asked.

Busted. Eliot grinned. “You caught me. I cast it on myself before I left the Physical Kids Cottage this morning. Can you blame a guy for wanting a free massage from a cute boy?”

“Eliot!” Quentin laughed, lightly smacking him on his side with a hand full of sunscreen. “Okay, well when I’m done, you’re doing mine. It’s only fair,” he added, clearly in a good mood as he went back to rubbing the lotion into Eliot’s clear, soft skin. It must be due to the fresh air and Vitamin D. El should encourage him to go outdoors more often.

“Deal,” Eliot agreed, and once Quentin was done, El stood up and turned around to face him. “I’m going to cast this on you too, then you’ll get your back massage. It’ll feel a bit weird at first, okay?” he explained, giving his fingers a quick stretch so he could cast.

Q, who apparently _just_ realized how little Eliot was wearing, averted his eyes as his cheeks took on a pink twinge, then nodded.

“Are you blushing at me?” El called him on it right away, still giddy with the success of his back massage trick.

Quentin shut his eyes, still smiling. “Shut up, it’s from the sun! I’m not wearing any sunscreen yet, remember?” he laughed, waving his hand in the air as if to shoo away the embarrassment.

“If you say so,” Eliot said smugly, not convinced at all as he linked his fingers together and moved through the tut for the sunscreen spell he picked up early in his career as a Brakebills student. Word got around quickly to frequent sunbathers over there.

He noticed a shiver rip through Quentin as the magic sun protection took hold, then Q opened his eyes. “Thanks. Um? If I have the magic version, I guess you don’t have to...” Quentin started to back out.

“Don’t be silly. Fair is fair,” Eliot said as he climbed back onto his lounger and grabbed for the bottle of sunscreen. “Come on, I really don’t mind. It’ll feel good,” he insisted, motioning for Q to turn around.

Quentin’s expression flitted briefly to something grateful, then he used his arms to spin himself to face the opposite direction and pulled his shirt up over his head, dropping it on the chair next to him. “Go ahead,” he said, bracing himself for the cold and then reacting with relief when the first touch of lotion was just warm enough against his skin.

El had obviously thought of that ahead of time and cast a quick warming charm on the bottle before he started. Q knew him well, but he still hadn’t seemed to pick up on the fact that Eliot would _always_ take care of him when he had the chance. That granted Eliot the opportunity to surprise someone good who rarely expected to be treated so well, and he seized on it whenever possible.

With Q facing away, Eliot didn’t have to hide the way he looked at him. Quentin was still on the thinner side from his trip through the snow; it would probably take a bit for him to get totally back to normal, but even still, El hadn’t quite realized how fit Quentin was. His back and shoulder muscles were actually pretty toned; when did he find time to work out with all of those days spent studying and reading up in his room, and why on Earth would he cover that up with oversized sweaters?

This was an exciting development, in Eliot’s opinion. What could he say? Coldwater was a delightful mystery just begging to be solved.

They sat in silence for a while, both a little lost in the feeling. And then Quentin spoke up, possibly just for the sake of filling the silence.

“So, how long does that spell last?” he asked.

“You should be good for 24 hours. I can teach it to you tomorrow morning when you need a refresh if you’d like,” Eliot said. “God, you’re tense. You’re carrying everything right here, Q. I hope you give yourself a chance to relax this week,” he added, rubbing his thumb into a particularly tricky spot between the base of his neck and his shoulder.

“I know, sorry,” Quentin said, rolling his shoulders back and tilting his head away. “It’s been like that as long as I can remember.”

Eliot fought the urge to lean closer and kiss Quentin’s bare shoulder. He managed to resist. “Well, you’re all done. What’s next? Drink? Swim?” El asked. He watched as Q considered whether to put his shirt back on, then Eliot privately rejoiced when Quentin stuffed the shirt into his tote bag.

“I could uh, definitely use a drink,” Quentin laughed nervously, appearing to be suddenly aware of the couples and groups that were draped around each other, making out around them. Had he really been that distracted by putting on sunscreen, that it took him this long to notice? Then, Q’s eyes settled on the pool, which was surprisingly empty. “But could we go for a quick swim first?” he asked, turning and looking up at Eliot with those big brown eyes.

El stood up, already dressed for the occasion, and held his hand out for Q. “You’ve got it,” he said, immediately wondering if the hand thing was a bit too much for a friendly dip in the pool. But Eliot was nothing if not a gentleman, so he stuck with it.

After a brief delay, Quentin reached up and took his hand so Eliot could pull him into a standing position. Everything was fine until he realized that Eliot was going straight for the deep end, when he quickly tried to twist out of his grip. “Wait, are you jumping in?” Q asked, a bit panicky.

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Eliot replied, monotone as ever, with a little laugh as he let Quentin’s hand go free.

Q brought his hand up to sweep his hair behind his ear, which was definitely a nervous reflex and not at all functional because his hair was still tied back. “I’m uh, more of a... stairs... guy,” he said, retreating to the shallow end.

Oh, the smile on Eliot’s face. He couldn’t help himself, really. “You can swim, right?” he made sure. “It’s okay if you can’t...”

“Damnit Eliot; of course I can swim,” Quentin kind of shouted, then his eyes darted to the people around them which he seemed to regret immediately. “It’s... the cold. I um, prefer to ease in?”

Of _course_ Quentin Coldwater needed to adjust to the temperature slowly and be this embarrassed about it. Quentin was the human embodiment of a dog with his tail tucked between his legs and Eliot couldn’t get enough of it.

“Okay. I’ll meet you over there,” El chose to let him get away with that temporarily before performing an effortless dive into the deep end, all pointed bare limbs and almost no splash. Whether he was currently under the influence of a mind-numbing crush or not, Eliot knew how to get attention.

When El surfaced and made sure his wet hair was slicked back in just the right way, he looked around and found Quentin dipping a single toe into the other end of the pool. El swam over, giving Q a wide berth and watching this whole debacle unfold with bated breath. The moment was nothing if not a really great excuse to check him out, after all. He was not at all shocked to found out how cute Quentin’s stomach was.

“I have one question and it’s probably not the question you think I’m going to ask, but Q, as long as you’re taking such a goddamn long time getting in here, I absolutely have to find out who your personal trainer is because where the fuck did those legs come from?” Eliot called from across the shallow end, knowing it would hit exactly the right nerve for this situation.

“...What?” Q looked up, clearly disarmed by the sudden change of subject. He was apparently expecting to spend longer in defense of his water enjoyment style.

“I said you’re fucking cute, Coldwater! Own it and get in here with me,” El continued with a huge grin on his face, punctuating his formal complaint with a splash. Eliot coped better with his insecurities when he took the time to shine a light on them, so no one would think he cared half as much as he actually did. To El, the correct way to seem like you aren’t heartbroken over someone is to shout how attractive you find them from across a pool.

“Stop it,” Quentin tried not to smile as he retracted away from the quick spray of pool water, but it was pretty clear he was enjoying the attention now that El was interspersing his teasing jabs with compliments.

Eliot felt the relief wash over him. He’d become relatively skilled at towing that narrow line between making Quentin angry and making him laugh. “Stop splashing or stop telling you how good you look in that... surprisingly normal bathing suit?” El asked, trying to sum up the solid navy swim trunks that stopped just above Quentin’s knee, a place the pool water hadn’t dared reach, even after several minutes of banter.

“Both! You’re distracting me; I have to concentrate!” Q yelled mid-giggle, all self-consciousness lost for now. Bingo.

“Okay, no. How about this?” Eliot said as he swam closer, keeping the water level up to his shoulders even though that meant bending his legs quite a lot in order to keep the rest of him in the water. Tall guy problems. “Grab on, it’s really nice in here,” he said quietly, holding his hands out once he was within reach.

“Come on, El. I’ll just be another minute,” Quentin said, still all smiles as he went down another step, successfully getting one leg wet up to his knee.

“Am I going to need to set my alarm an additional half hour earlier every morning to account for how long it takes you to get into a pool? That had better come with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a pastry and I might not complain about it if you deliver it to me in this exact outfit,” Eliot continued, frankly able to go on with this for another hour if he needed to.

Quentin flat-out cackled, taking another step down. “Seriously, I’m almost done,” he insisted, despite the water barely making it halfway to his waist.

El took it down practically an octave, looking Quentin right in the eye. “Trust me,” he said simply, still holding his arms out for Q to grab onto.

With a deep breath, Quentin leaned forward and clutched onto Eliot’s forearms with both hands. Then, El dug his heels in and propelled them both backwards to a more comfortable depth. He held onto Quentin tightly the whole time, making sure he felt secure even though he was clearly a little shocked by the sudden cool water up to his shoulders. Q had to have been expecting it as soon as he took the leap of faith, though, because he didn’t seem upset at all.

“Are you alright?” he made sure as his playful flirting washed away with their proximity to the steps. To Q’s comfort zone.

Quentin nodded. “Yeah, actually. You were right. It is nice in here,” he said.

With a flick of his eyelashes, Q looked Eliot right in the eye. It was only for a second, but it was more than enough to send El reeling right back into his own personal comfort zone.

“Told you,” he grinned, letting go of Quentin’s arms and easing backward a few feet so they weren’t standing as close together.

They swam around for a bit, not really saying much. Eliot tried (and failed) to get Quentin to duck under the waterfall. A few other folks made their way into the pool, but they kept their distance.

“Hey, so how does this whole thing work?” Quentin asked kind of quietly, just as he and Eliot had both leaned up against the edge of the pool around the 5’ mark.

“What whole thing?” El pushed for clarification, because really, that could’ve meant anything.

Q looked out across the water at the people having a great time together on the lounge chairs. He watched as a couple got up and left together, presumably to relocate to a more forgiving color zone for their intended activities. “Do total strangers just come up and ask if they want to...”

Ah. There it was. “Yeah, pretty much. Almost everyone’s here for sex. They don’t usually waste time worrying about rejection; they could just as easily move on to asking someone else if it’s a no,” Eliot said, drawing from his experience at Encanto Oculto the last few years.

It made sense that Quentin was curious, but El was surprised that he was wondering out loud about how to go about finding a partner (or group of partners) here so soon. Maybe he did hope to meet someone to play with after all. Or maybe he was just preparing himself to turn people down.

“What if... no one asks you? If you’re too nervous to ask them?” Q continued, shining a bit more light on his specific worries.

El thought about this for a moment, then he shrugged. “Some folks roll in packs, or in pairs. Stick to the people they’re comfortable with and lean on the more daring ones to invite more participants in,” he suggested. The idea that Quentin, _his_ Quentin thought nobody here would want him and worried that he’d sit alone all week, too nervous to ask anyone else, was... maddening. But he chose to keep that particular consideration to himself.

“Oh,” Quentin said, floating his fingertips along the surface of the water. A few strands of his hair had come loose from the bun and was hanging down into his face.

What was Eliot supposed to do with that information? Margo had warned him not to let Quentin keep him from having any fun, but the temptation to assign himself as the sole person in charge of negotiating Q’s conquests and managing his comfort level was too strong and too dangerous. He wanted to volunteer for the job, wanted the excuse to dig deeper into finding out exactly what Quentin wanted so he could advocate for him, wanted to make sure Q was properly taken care of. But he couldn’t.

“Well, it looks like that’s not going to be a problem. Incoming, 9:00,” Eliot said as two attractive men right around their age waded over from the shallow end.

“Oh God,” Quentin muttered under his breath, sinking lower into the pool with his nose just above the water.

Okay, maybe Eliot wouldn’t mind hanging around just to watch Q squirm.

“Hey. I’m Sam, this is Jesse. We were thinking of getting some folks together to head over to the Green zone beach next door. Would you two like to join us?” the shorter of the two said, motioning to his friend who had surprisingly blue eyes.

El handled it without faltering at all. “Hi, I’m Eliot. That’s Quentin. Mind if we talk it over? Maybe join you if we’re feeling it?” he said, charming as always.

“Sure. Hope to see you soon,” Jesse said with a smile, nodding and then heading back to the shallow end with Sam.

Quentin wasn’t saying anything as he looked down at the water in front of him.

“What are you thinking?” Eliot asked quietly, once they were alone again.

Letting out a breath he’d been holding, Quentin peered up at El for a moment and said, “You go. I uh... that’s too many people for me to start out with.”

“I’ll stay if you -”

“No, really; it’s fine. I don’t want to hold you back from what you came here to do, I could just go read that book I brought, unless...” Q started.

“I’ll set you up with someone!” Eliot jumped in, guessing what Quentin was about to say.

Quentin shook his head, reaching out his hand tentatively in Eliot’s direction, “That’s not exactly -”

“Come on, it’s nothing. I’m good at this. We’ll get some drinks first. I bet we’ll even find you a girl who’s reading by the pool, how about that? And you’re only in Red, so you don’t have to take it elsewhere if you’re not up for more than kissing,” El said, taking the hand that Q had offered to him and wading back to the stairs with Quentin behind him.

With a heavy sigh, Q said, “Okay. Uh, thanks.” 

After ordering them both something refreshing from the bar, Eliot ended up finding an objectively pretty girl who happened to be reading one of those Fillory and Further books Quentin got so adorably excited about and conducted a great introduction, if he did say so himself. He then excused himself, intending to give Q plenty of space after setting him up for success.

But really, it hurt El’s heart to stick around much longer than that, even though he knew that helping give Quentin a friendly nudge was the right thing to do. He did want to spend more time with Q in the sunshine, but what Margo said had stuck with him and it was only the first day. He could always catch up with him later.

And with that, Eliot picked up his robe from the lounge chair where he’d left it and walked over to join Sam and Jesse’s group.


	3. Spin the Bottle

After several blissful hours in a cabana on the beach, a well-fucked and undressed Eliot was exhausted. Some of the group had wandered off to find another activity, a few folks were asleep, and El was staring up at the ceiling from his spot on the beach blanket, unable to get his mind off of Quentin.

Every mouth on him had made him think of that sweet little bow-shaped frown. Every time someone whispered in his ear, he found himself disappointed that they weren’t falling all over themselves to get the words out. Would Quentin find some way to bring up Fillory and Further during sex? Because for whatever reason, Eliot was oddly sad that nobody here had done that. _What was wrong with him?_

Before long, his thoughts were drifting to whether or not Quentin had found the courage to ask that girl by the pool to kiss him. Would Eliot find them reading together on separate lounge chairs when he got back or would they have moved to a Yellow or Green area together? 

Don’t get him wrong; Eliot kept it up and got off just fine. He was perfectly capable of blocking out whatever he was thinking about and channeling the frustration into sex, thank you very much.

But as he laid here, he couldn’t help thinking that if it were Quentin he’d just slept with, he would have a warm little weight clinging to his side with a flash of messy, silky hair tickling his chin right now. He’d be able to feel a beautiful, brave heart pattering against his bare chest. He could lean down and press a kiss onto a sweaty furrowed brow and assure an overthinking Q that this was alright, that he didn’t have to worry, that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. He had Eliot now. Eliot would always take care of him.

Margo was right. Margo was right. _Margo was right._

Thinking that it couldn’t hurt to go check on the guy, he fished his swim shorts out of a pile of discarded clothes and pulled them back on, making sure he was all cleaned up and tucked in. Modesty was not a typical concern for him here, but he thought that Q would become relatively useless if Eliot reappeared wearing anything less.

He found his robe outside of the cabana; clearly he had been in a rush to get properly acquainted with Jesse, Sam, and someone whose name he’d missed on his way in, but he snatched up the delicate length of fabric and threw it over his shoulder.

It only took a few minutes to walk up the hill to the Red pool he’d left earlier, but as soon as he was close enough to scan the crowd for faces, the wind was practically knocked out of his chest.

There was Quentin, perched in a pool chair right near the entrance. And he wasn’t alone, nor was he with the nerd gal Eliot had introduced him to earlier that day. He was softly kissing a _man_ who was brushing his fingers through Quentin’s long hair as he tugged it loose from the bun. And Q looked _happy_.

Eliot needed to go. He needed to be somewhere else this instant. So he practically ran back to the Green beach, stopping at a bar on the way. After a few shots, he began searching the various groups and couples for a familiar head of flawlessly sleek, dark hair until he found her.

“Bambi, it’s happening,” he said, rushing over to Margo who was laying out on a beach blanket with her head propped up on a pillow and someone’s face between her legs.

“Or at least it was happening. Eliot, you know I never mind if you join in but this wasn’t exactly what I meant,” she whined, eyes closed. Then, Margo let out a breath and cautiously opened one eye. “What did Quentin do now?”

Eliot sat down on the sand next to her, ignoring the fact that she was on the receiving end of what looked like some rather skilled cunnilingus while they talked. “I left him with a perfectly nice woman a few hours ago because he encouraged me to get some action with a group that invited us in, and when I came back I found him - he was - he -”

“Was he with a guy, Eliot?” Margo asked, not sounding particularly surprised.

“He was... well, I didn’t get a very good look, to be honest, but yes. How did you know?” he demanded, dramatically flopping down onto the sand next to her.

“El, Quentin is bi,” she said as she leaned up onto her elbows and picked her head up so she could look at him. “And given your reaction, I eliminated some options.”

Completely beside himself, Eliot was wrecked. “How could I have missed this?” he asked himself out loud, pulling at his hair until his beach-salty curls stood straight up.

“Just because he responds to feelings of sexual attraction by refusing to say anything to anyone about them doesn’t mean he isn’t experiencing them,” Margo said.

They sat in silence for a few seconds while Eliot let that sink in. It had just been so much easier to assume that Quentin must not be interested in men than it was to accept that he wasn’t interested in _him_.

“Have you at all considered telling him how you feel about him?” Margo asked, point blank.

Eliot covered his face with his hands. “No,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

She breathed in, appearing to remember that she was feeling pretty great right now. Once the moment had passed, she asked the question Eliot had already been asking himself. “Then can you really blame him for seeking out someone else?”

He shook his head no. He _knew_ that someone else would notice how great Quentin is eventually.

“Do you need me to take you back to the room?” she asked him honestly, and he knew that she would do it in a heartbeat if he asked.

“Maybe we can go dancing later instead, you and me?” Eliot suggested, sitting up and brushing off the sand that had stuck to him.

“Deal,” she said, reaching up and taking his hand in hers. “Love you, El.”

“Love you too,” Eliot said back, squeezing her hand. He turned his attention to the woman between Margo’s legs and said, “Make it good for her, okay?”

Then, he got up and headed out to find another drink.

* * *

The night out dancing with Margo turned out to be exactly what Eliot needed. Even though she was tough on him when she needed to be, nobody cared about him more than she did and she knew exactly what to say to make him feel okay again after.

After several hours of utter glee and howling laughter, the two of them returned to the hotel suite drunk and sleepy. The lights were out and Quentin was in his makeshift bed on the couch, so they tried to be quiet and headed to their respective rooms.

On Eliot’s way out of the bathroom, however, he noticed that Q had moved into a sitting position. “You okay, Q?” El asked him quietly. He hadn’t seen Quentin around since he spotted him with that guy earlier, and he was fairly certain that Quentin hadn’t noticed him at the time.

“Can’t sleep,” a very tired-sounding Q replied. 

El turned over a very tempting thought in his head for a moment. He did feel better about the whole thing now that he’d had a chance to talk through what happened and blow off some steam with Margo. Since he hadn’t confronted Quentin about it, Q probably didn’t even know that Eliot had been upset.

“Come on. There’s plenty of space in my bed,” Eliot said before he could convince himself otherwise. They didn’t have to touch at all; it was just more comfortable than the couch.

Quentin was probably too tired to question the offer. He was notably silent as he got up and followed El into his room, hanging back while Eliot chose a side of the bed then climbing under the covers opposite him.

Without saying another word, Eliot turned off the lamp on his bedside table and waited to fall asleep.

“Thanks, El,” said a small Quentin-shaped voice across the bed.

“Don’t mention it,” Eliot responded softly, hoping that this would be the end of the conversation but making an effort to keep that from carrying into his voice. This was still Quentin, who made Eliot’s eyes sparkle and who took up so much space in his heart.

Q tugged at the corner of the top sheet in his hands. Eliot could feel it moving slightly.

“Sorry I missed you guys tonight. I wasn’t sure where you’d gone, and I didn’t want to get stuck outside past 2am when the zones change,” Quentin said.

Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in, Eliot started to let the guilt creep in for avoiding Q their first night on vacation. “Margo and I usually go off in our own directions here; you don’t have to feel badly for doing the same thing,” he assured him. “That’s why we get a suite instead of separate hotel rooms; so we’ll inevitably cross paths at some point. We’ll catch up eventually.”

Quentin was quiet again. Eliot knew better than to assume that he’d fallen asleep; he could practically hear Q thinking.

“I had fun with you at the pool this morning,” Q said shyly.

El’s heart swelled in his chest. Every bone in his body screamed for him to come up with some kind of smart retort, to do anything except be honest, to make Quentin pay just a little bit for making him feel the way he had. But that’s not who Eliot was right now, in the middle of the night, after one too many drinks, under the covers of the bed they had somehow ended up sharing. Here, he was just going to be Eliot.

“Me too, Q.”

“...I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

* * *

When Eliot woke up, he found a fast asleep Quentin who had apparently rolled closer to him in his sleep. He was _incredibly_ warm, this compact little space heater of a man, but he was clean and he smelled like hotel shampoo samples. He must have showered when he got back to the room last night.

Before the realization could set in that his days waking up next to Quentin were numbered, El quietly got out of the bed. He needed time to think, so he took a nice, long shower.

By the time his skin, hair care, and grooming regimens were completed, he had decided that he shouldn’t take any of this out on Quentin. It wasn’t the boy’s fault and he should be allowed to like who he likes, even if that wasn’t El.

So he made the decision to head out into the early morning light and scavenge the breakfast buffet for treats to bring back up to the room. He was setting them out on the small table in their suite when Q came out of his bedroom, yawning and stretching his sore muscles like a cartoon character.

“Morning, Q. Breakfast and coffee are here if you’re hungry,” Eliot said as he set out clean plates and went into the kitchenette to start up a pitcher of some freshly squeezed orange juice (he’d worked out a spell that did most of the work for him whenever he was away from the juicer in the cottage).

“Seriously? You are amazing,” Quentin said sleepily, pulling up a chair and filling his plate with eggs, toast, and fruit. He happily picked up a to-go cup of coffee from the café in the lobby that had his name scribbled onto it.

Eliot took the compliment quietly with a smile and brought the pitcher of juice to the table before sitting down next to him.

“Should we wake up Margo?” Q asked, taking a drink of the hot coffee Eliot had brought for him.

El nearly choked on a beautifully woven pastry with a name that Quentin probably couldn’t pronounce. “Oh God, never. She can reheat all of this in like two seconds if she needs to. Bambi earned her beauty rest.”

Quentin laughed. “You’re right, sorry I asked.”

They ate quietly for a while, then eventually, Quentin spoke up. “Do you want to go to the beach today? With me, I mean.”

Eliot looked up to find that Q was avoiding his eye contact again. “I could be persuaded,” he replied nonchalantly. And since he was feeling like a risk taker today, El suggested something that was probably a bit out of Quentin’s comfort zone. “You know, there’s this really lovely Yellow beach on the other side of the resort with plenty of shade, some secluded spots, and by far the most scenic beach bar at Encanto Oculto.”

Q looked up tentatively. “Yellow is... clothes can come off, but no sex?” he asked, needing a reminder. It was honestly more than the hard _no_ accompanied by flailing panic Eliot was expecting.

“Above the belt touching at the most,” Eliot confirmed. “The public nudity is honestly not as weird once you have a chance to get used to it. And we could head right to the bar if some liquid courage would help,” he suggested in that tone he used when he wanted to pretend like nothing has ever phased him.

“I... could give that a go. Could we leave if it’s too much?” Quentin said, taking a bite of thick toast with a deliciously seasoned crust.

“We could. But you’re here to have an adventure, right?” El asked, referencing what Q had said when he first showed interest in coming on the trip with them.

The sweetest glimmer of a smile made an appearance on Quentin’s face as he gave Eliot a small nod.

* * *

Eliot’s favorite beach on the property was farther out from the rest of the resort. The original tree line had been left, so there were areas with natural shade and the bar was tucked just inside of one of those.

The walk there left the fully dressed Q with a predictable level of blush on his cheeks, but he seemed okay with continuing forward anyway. And Eliot had found a happy medium with his outfit, sporting some cute pink shorts that ended above his knee and a lightweight short-sleeved button up shirt left completely open.

They ordered drinks and sat at the bar, just the two of them, for a little while. It was still relatively early in the morning for most folks, so the beach wasn’t crowded yet. Eliot was a bit relieved to see that they’d have plenty of space to themselves, especially as his guilt for pulling Q out of his comfort zone began to set in. He also intended to keep his own clothes on, at least for now.

“So how are you feeling about this place now that you’re no longer completely sober?” Eliot checked in, once he’d ordered and handed Quentin his second drink of the morning. The bartender headed out for a minute to grab additional drink-making supplies once he was finished making their recent order.

“Better, actually! I kind of like it out here,” Q admitted as he picked up the cold drink full of freshly muddled strawberries and took a sip, perching happily on his barstool.

Trying not to be too smug about it, Eliot replied with a chill, “Good!” before he tested his own drink. “Not everyone makes their way out this far; especially since lots of people skip right to the Green zones and totally miss this quiet little Yellow one.”

“Thanks for sharing it with me,” Quentin said. He seemed to have more to say, but he was holding onto it for whatever reason. Eliot was just about to attempt to pry it out of him when a woman their age walked up to the bar with a man tagging along behind her. Neither of them were wearing very much.

“Hey, do you guys know what this bar’s signature cocktail is?” she asked Quentin and Eliot upon seeing that the bartender was out.

El, who might as well work here, reached behind the bar and grabbed two of the laminated cocktail menus. “It’s the Chkhartishvili, but if you ask me, the drink they named after Legrand is better,” El said as he slid the menus down the bar to his right where they could reach them. “Knocks you out if you have too many, though.” He heard Q laughing quietly beside him and was glad to hear that his admittedly silly hammer-themed joke landed.

“Thanks,” the guy said, taking a look at the list for himself.

“Wait, they named all of their exclusive cocktails after famous magicians?” Quentin asked as he finished his second drink, which had been named after Dempsey.

“A little self-indulgent on the part of the elders, if you ask me. Like it clears them up to name a few drinks after themselves,” Eliot joked.

The couple who had joined them laughed. They ordered “Two Legrands, please,” when the bartender returned, then shared what was pretty obviously a wordless conversation between them. Maybe they were psychic.

The woman spoke up when they appeared to come to a consensus. “We’re starting a game of Spin the Bottle on the beach soon. Would you two want to join?” she asked, motioning over to her group of friends sitting in the sand. There were four or five folks so far, of all genders in various states of undress. They were all smiling though; it looked like they were having fun.

“If you could just give us a -”

“Actually, yeah!” Quentin spoke up, deflecting Eliot’s attempt to give him an easy out.

Eliot turned his look of surprise toward Q’s direction. Was that... confidence in his expression? “We’ll be right over,” El agreed, giving Quentin an impressed smile.

Once their acquaintances had gone back, Q shrugged. “What? They seem cool. I can handle a game of Spin the Bottle,” he insisted.

“I’m impressed, that’s all,” Eliot said. Okay. I guess he was going to play Spin the Bottle with Q. And some naked people they’d never met.

They got up from their barstools and started to walk to the open area of the beach. “There aren’t any... magician rules that I should be aware of, right?” Quentin asked Eliot, finally letting a little of his inevitable nervousness slip out.

“Just don’t try to move the bottle with your mind. Believe me; it’s not worth it,” El warned, elbowing him in the side and making him squeak with a tiny laugh. Quentin’s t-shirt was really soft. “And don’t ever play with Margo. She seems to think that it’s possible to _win_ Spin the Bottle, and it is _not_ a game you want to lose.”

“You _would_ try and cheat at Spin the Bottle,” Quentin said, grinning up at him. “You’re gonna have to tell me that story at some point, you know.”

“I am expressly forbidden to speak of it. You may never learn what happened that dreadful night,” El spoke dramatically, succeeding in drawing another laugh out of Quentin. He would do _anything_ to make that boy laugh. He would trade vials of his own blood if it meant he could see those dimples.

Once a few latecomers joined them, it was time for the game to start. Someone had dug a flat, level place in the sand where the empty wine bottle could spin in the center and patted it down with a little sea water to keep it there.

As Eliot sat down to join the circle, he eased his shirt off of his shoulders and put it aside so he would fit in better with the vibe. Quentin was now the most dressed person in the circle by far and nearly half of the group was completely naked. The level of nudity certainly spiced up a game that was typically played by teenagers, and El guessed that this would be somewhat more intimate than a few nervous, dry pecks on the mouth.

He was right; as the game got going, the kisses ranged from a gentle but curious thirty second touch of lips to a full-on make out session, within reason. Folks were more than aware that they had an audience and either played it up or finished things off as the mood of the group dictated.

It didn’t take long before someone’s bottle landed on Quentin. The first time it happened, a very pretty woman with red hair crawled across the circle, grabbed onto his shoulder, and planted her soft, full lips on his mouth. He rested his hand on her upper arm with a gentle tilt of his head, followed her lead, and let her pull back when she was ready to.

Quentin had kind of the perfect approach to playing this game with strangers; he politely hung back without making them feel awkward, then let them set the tone of the kiss before he made any big moves. It took a fair amount of self control to do that. Eliot couldn’t know for sure without experiencing it himself, but from what he could tell, Q was probably a good kisser. El was kind of impressed.

And when it became Quentin’s turn to spin after that, the bottle landed on a cute guy across the circle from where they sat. El was delighted to see that when Q was in charge, he greeted his next kissing partner with a tiny “Hi,” before tilting his head up and kissing him with his eyes tightly closed. He didn’t stick around too long, but it wasn’t a short kiss either; just lengthy enough to leave the other guy wanting more.

And Eliot couldn’t imagine how he _wouldn’t_ want more after kissing adorable, sarcastic, passionate Quentin. Q was someone who loved with his _entire_ being, and getting to be on the receiving end of that, even for just a fleeting moment, had to feel incredible. El wanted so badly to know what that felt like.

Watching Quentin kiss people up close like this was _something_. Before, Eliot felt an immediate urge to look away and relocate when he accidentally encountered this in the past. But there was something about the way he was _encouraged_ to look now. Everyone was watching everyone else. It was part of the allure of the game, and he had a front row seat as the lucky person who got to sit next to him.

Eliot got a fair amount of action too. The first time, El hadn’t even noticed that the spin had landed on himself; he was distracted by the way Quentin was intently watching the previous pair kiss. But after that, he put his full attention into the game. Eliot kissed like his life depended on it, and he fully believed in the need to do that during a game that by definition, never went beyond kissing. There was no opportunity to prove your other skills, so it was important. And Quentin was definitely watching, which made it feel a bit like former high school theater geek Eliot was _auditioning_.

He kissed some boys. He kissed a girl. He even kissed someone who immediately had to kiss Q after that, which felt... devastatingly close to what Eliot wanted. Like he’d sent this lovely nonbinary stranger off with a message that they delivered directly into Quentin’s mouth.

That made it Quentin’s turn again, so he reached into the circle and gripped the glass bottle in his hand. Eliot watched him breath in deeply, then spin the oblong cylinder before retracting his arm to quickly get out of its way. Of _course_ Q would get a small wave of anxiety over possibly knocking into the bottle and interfering with its spin. 

And this time, the bottle landed pointing right at Eliot. It’s not like El _wasn’t_ expecting this to happen eventually, given the odds, but the way his body reacted to the realization that he was about to kiss Quentin was a lot to handle.

He recovered well though, gaining control over his ability to breathe quickly enough. Then, he turned toward Quentin and raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘ _well, would you look at that’._ Then, he held out his arm and said, “Come here, Q.”

To Eliot’s surprise, Quentin moved in, getting up onto his knees to lessen the height difference with a hint of a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Did you do that on purpose?” he asked jokingly, pointing to the bottle as evidence.

“Cross my heart, I did _not_ move that bottle. I learned my lesson last time,” Eliot promised, positively giddy with the headiness of what was happening right now.

“Okay, if you say so...” Quentin mumbled, then he fucking _licked his lips_ and leaned in like it was the easiest thing in the world, brushing his super soft lips against Eliot’s. It was like Q needed to feel him out first for just a second, but then he went in for a full, wholehearted press of his mouth.

They were kissing. Quentin Coldwater was kissing him. And he felt so _good_ and he _wasn’t pulling away._

Eliot’s whole body was buzzing as he wrapped an arm around Quentin, desperate to hold on to this wonderful little body and this _feeling_. He begged his brain to calm down and pay attention to what was happening, because he did _not_ want to forget what this felt like. And then his muscle memory kicked in when he realized, _‘oh right. I’m good at this,’_ and he deepened the kiss, gently licking into Quentin’s delicious, wonderful mouth. And Quentin had already opened up for him so beautifully, as if it were no big deal, like he was just waiting for the opportunity to do it this whole time.

Everything he’d thought earlier about the politeness of following the other person’s lead went out the window once he considered that this might be his only chance to show Quentin how good he could make him feel. Luckily, Q seemed to be into this enough for Eliot to have at least a bit of time left to prove that. He slid his hand up into Quentin’s hair, holding the back of his head so he could support him and tilt his skull in just the right way to make the angle perfect. He just barely tugged at the roots of Quentin’s hair as he tasted the sensitive skin inside his mouth, kind of by accident really. And Eliot felt Quentin _shiver_ and _melt_ in response.

Wait. That... was that a coincidence, or was Quentin’s whole body very clearly communicating that he was actually _turned on_ by this?

As El started to get the feeling that their turn should probably be up soon, he tested that glimmer of a theory one more time with a shallow but firm tug on Quentin’s hair. Just a quick little rush of dopamine to show Quentin that he could tell exactly what he wanted, that _this_ is what Q was missing.

Q could have this every fucking day if he would just _ask._

When they pulled apart, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other.

After that, the group kind of decided to end the game there.

_I guess that means they won._


	4. Skinny Dipping

Quentin and Eliot said goodbye to their new friends and walked down to the water without them, eager to cool down a bit. Apparently Q did fine with colder water after he’d been making out with people in the hot sun. Quentin wrestled himself out of his t-shirt and left it further up on the beach, then jogged into the water.

Eliot stayed behind a bit, letting the tired out waves in the shallows crash against his shins and giving himself the space to recover mentally from what had just happened.

Upon noticing that he was alone, Quentin turned around in the water and saw that Eliot was watching him from afar. He gave one of those small but wide closed mouth smiles and asked, “Are you coming in?”

El let a wry grin cross his face. “I would, but I didn’t bring a bathing suit and these shorts are dry clean only,” he called out to Q.

His friend was flabbergasted, apparently. “You... didn’t bring a bathing suit. To the beach,” Quentin repeated, still looking for some kind of clarification.

“To a _Yellow zone_ beach,” Eliot all but spelled out for him.

The _look_ on Quentin’s face let El know that he understood now. It took a minute before Q was able to figure out what to say in response to the notion that Eliot would need to get naked in order to swim with him here.

“So are you just going to stay over there, or...” Q wondered out loud, stepping back to go a little deeper into the water.

“I’m fine with that,” Eliot said. Then, he added, “But I’d come in if you were okay with it. Would it make you uncomfortable if I took these off?”

Quentin swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked around, presumably to take stock of how many other people were around. The beach had grown a bit more crowded than the early morning quiet they’d experienced when they first arrived. “Maybe not... if there were less people around?” he said tentatively.

That was interesting. Well, luckily Eliot knew exactly the right solution for this. “I might have something,” El hinted. “This way.”

With that, Eliot turned on a dime and headed back up the beach. A dripping wet Quentin followed along eventually, catching up with him by the time they reached the bar near the tree line.

“Hey, is anyone back there?” Eliot asked the bartender, nodding towards the woods.

He shook his head no, seeming unimpressed by El’s confidence and apparent knowledge of secret Encanto Oculto hideouts.

Eliot looked around the bar for a second and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen that sat near the register. He wrote a few things down on the sheet on top, reread his work, then passed it over to the bartender.

That did the trick, because suddenly the guy was making a lot more eye contact with Eliot. “It’s all yours, kid,” he said.

So El took Quentin by the hand before he could chicken out, and led him into the forest.

“What did you give him?” Q asked, somehow still losing his mind with amazement over the way his life had turned into a fantasy novel these last few months.

“One of my drink-making spells. His were a little weak, figured he could use the boost,” El said, following a soft sand pathway between the trees. “And it was apparently worth it because now we get to hang out _here_.”

They stepped into a small clearing that revealed a quiet lagoon, completely devoid of other festival goers but with plenty of space for them to swim. It wasn’t located terribly far from the hustle and bustle of the resort, so clearly someone had cast soundproofing wards to make it feel more secluded.

“Are there places like this hidden all over the festival?” Quentin asked, looking around in awe.

It suddenly occurred to Eliot that they were still holding hands, so he reluctantly let go before it could get weird and stepped closer to the water. “If you know where to look,” he said, trying to hide how elated he felt at Q’s reaction to one of the secrets he’d spent years gathering here. Maybe bringing him along on this trip actually _was_ a good idea. Encanto Oculto was full of opportunities to engage Quentin’s seemingly bottomless sense of wonder.

He watched Quentin walk forward and bend down to put his hand in the warm and clear water. Satisfied, Q sat down and slid in, wading forward to see how deep it would go.

For once, _Eliot_ couldn’t figure out the right words for the situation. “So... if it’s okay with you...” he said, indicating in the general direction of his very preppy shorts.

“Oh! Right,” Quentin snapped out of his lagoon-induced trance and appeared to remember that he was the one who had requested more privacy so Eliot could go skinny dipping. “Yeah, um, here,” he said, then he turned in the water to face away from El. So polite.

Well, here goes nothing. Eliot unbuttoned his shorts and slid them down his long legs before folding them and placing them neatly on a large rock. His underwear followed and he pointedly left them on top of the pile - they were cute. Sue him if he wanted someone to see them. “Quite a day we’re having,” he joked as he walked over to the salt water pool and stepped in.

Quentin laughed. “Yeah, it’s uh... I’ve been trying to relax, like you told me. And it’s been _different_ ,” he said, still facing away.

Once El was in up to his midsection and adequately covered by the water, he took a deep breath and spoke up again. “You can turn around now, Q.”

Eliot normally had no problem at all with nudity. He’d shared his body with many partners over the years; it was certainly exciting, but nothing to be ashamed of. He had even briefly seen Q naked before, when he fell out of the Brakebills South portal. But even though he knew Quentin couldn’t see much of anything through the water, when that boy turned around and met his eyes from across the lagoon, El’s heart began to race. And what came next made it practically stop.

At first, El couldn’t tell what Quentin was doing. Q bent down so he was deeper in the water, and he seemed to be rummaging around for something. When he stood back up, he had a bashful but satisfied smile on his face. Quentin lifted his hand above the surface of the water and in it... was his swim trunks.

“Q...” Eliot said, preparing to assure him that he could’ve kept them on if he wanted when Quentin swam over to the opposite side and tossed his only piece of clothing onto a nearby boulder.

“I um, didn’t want you to be alone,” Quentin explained. He was clearly trying to present a calm front, but his voice gave a little squeak.

El was so fucking smitten. “You sure?” he asked, trying to hide the smile on his face. If you had asked Eliot that morning what he thought he’d end up doing today, he would never have guessed that he’d end up kissing Quentin during a game of half naked Spin the Bottle and then taking him skinny dipping in a private lagoon.

Then, something came over Quentin’s face and he was suddenly scrambling. “Fuck, I didn’t ask if this was okay. Ugh, El, I’m sorry - you were a total gentleman about it and made sure I was comfortable first and I just went right ahead and assumed -”

“It’s okay, Q,” El interrupted, desperate for the spiral to stop before Quentin did something ridiculous like scurry out of the water and put his fucking bathing suit back on. “Like I said in the pool yesterday, you’re cute. I am not complaining about this whatsoever.”

Quentin’s eyes were suddenly so bright, they practically sparkled. Eliot had no fucking idea what to do with that. What was even happening here? He’d somehow lost track. Were they... was this leading to something other than Eliot flirting shamelessly while Quentin slowly shrinks and stops speaking? Eliot had always taken that to mean that Q didn’t want the attention. That he was embarrassed by it, even.

And here they were, chilling out while naked on opposite ends of a rocky and sandy pool of ocean water that was just deep enough to prevent either of them from seeing anything especially juicy.

It ended up being Quentin who broke the silence. “That kiss earlier...” he started, looking down at the water in front of him. “Was that just, erm, you know. A one-time thing? For the game?”

How the _fuck_ was Eliot supposed to answer that question? His entire strategy hinged on his ability to pretend like he wasn’t absolutely head over heels for someone who, until today, metaphorically retracted into his human-sized turtle shell every time El touched him casually. What could he say that would allow him to maintain his carefully curated façade?

And for whatever reason, despite the fact that Eliot needed to come up with an answer, what he received from his internal thoughts were more questions. What was Q really asking here? Did he pick up on the fact that Eliot was _really_ into that kiss? Was he uncomfortable with the idea of that? Did Quentin already _know_ how much El wanted to be with him, and was he preparing to let him down gently?

Eliot tried to get ahold of himself, picturing what the suave, buttoned up version of himself would do in this situation. He needed to channel that character he’d created to save him from moments like these, to protect himself from getting hurt again. So he straightened his posture, looked right over at Q with a bit of a smirk, and shrugged. “It _was_ a pretty good kiss,” he said. Good. Noncommittal. Doesn’t give away much, doesn’t rule out anything, puts the ball back in Quentin’s court. _That_ Eliot would never be embarrassed to admit he’d enjoyed himself physically.

“So... you wouldn’t be opposed to going again, then?” Q asked, flicking his field of view upwards so he could glance at Eliot.

El very nearly imploded on the spot. Quentin Coldwater was making a move on _him_. While they were _naked_. He’d actually done it; he’d successfully demonstrated what a fucking good kisser he was and Quentin requested a more private location and came crawling back for more.

Apparently, Eliot was no longer capable of speech, so he pulled his hand up out of the water and motioned for Quentin to come closer. He can _totally_ give the boy more kisses without letting Q find out how much that would mean to him. That would be no problem at _all_.

As soon as Quentin saw the gesture, he started to swim over, practically scrambling to reach the other side of the lagoon where Eliot stood so much taller than him. There was this fire in Q’s eyes now as he looked up at Eliot, only a few feet away. A thoughtful look flashed across Quentin’s face just before he reached forward and took Eliot’s hand in his. And then he started to close the distance between them, tilting his chin up and letting his eyes flutter closed.

_Oh! Right, tall person. Eliot’s turn._ Luckily, Quentin was being so brave and open and willing, so it didn’t take much for El to lean down and claim Q’s mouth with his.

In the span of a moment, Eliot’s whole world shifted from a halting hellscape of vulnerability into the absolute euphoria that was kissing Quentin. It woke him _up_ , letting the emotional, frightened parts of himself that he had worked so hard to conceal climb back out. _This_ was the start of what he’s meant to be doing, and _this_ was the person he needed to do it with, on an all-consuming, _visceral_ level. This was _everything_.

He gave Quentin’s hand a gentle squeeze as he eased into the practiced motions of a good, thorough open-mouthed kiss. Without the audience, he had a chance to really tune into Q’s likes and dislikes. And Quentin was so goddamned responsive; his body practically shook when El did something he liked and suddenly, all he wanted was to coax one good moan out of the boy.

El had a theory that Quentin would be noisy if given the right environment, and being surrounded by a circle of mostly naked Spin the Bottle players was probably not that.

But before Eliot could even fully develop a plan on how best to make him sing, Quentin was lifting Eliot’s hand out of the water and placing it on the back of his neck. Q was telling him exactly what he wanted and it was the last thing El expected.And he knew they were just kissing, but something about that movement was so forward that it sent a jolt of excitement directly to his dick in the water. 

Eliot buried his hand into Quentin’s hair and started rubbing the pads of his fingers over the back of Q’s scalp. He felt Q’s shoulders lift up in response and Quentin breathed in a tiny gasp.

Because El remembered exactly what had set Quentin aflame earlier, he teased around the idea of pulling his hair for a little while, drawing it out for as long as he could while he kissed him thoroughly. He needed to make Q _really_ want it. Maybe he’d even demand it if he wanted it badly enough.

With his other hand, Eliot reached forward to touch Q’s chest, splaying his big hand out across it. He slid his palm downward and to the side, seeking out one of Quentin’s dark nipples and brushing his thumb back and forth over it.

Just as Quentin whimpered into his mouth, Eliot squeezed his other hand shut in Q’s hair and tugged it just a little. “Ohh,” Q moaned, too surprised by the timing of it to try and hold it back.

_There you go._ El rewarded him with a shallow little bite on his lower lip, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. He returned his attention to Quentin’s nip, lightly pinching it and rolling his thumb and forefinger around it.

Eliot noticed that Q was breathing heavier now, clearly past the point of trying to appear confident and just desperate to seek out as much pleasure as he could. Quentin slid his arms around El’s back and pulled him closer, dipping his tongue into Eliot’s mouth.

At the feeling of Quentin’s hands exploring his bare skin, chills danced up Eliot’s spine. This was actually _going_ somewhere. The last thing he wanted was to stop it, but his mind was shouting for him to do the safe thing, to keep Q from breaking his heart any more than he already had.

If Quentin was just chasing his arousal and looking for a good time, Eliot could absolutely give that to him, as long as he kept his involvement at surface level. He could enjoy himself, of course, but he knew that he needed to stay in control so he would have a chance of getting out of this unscathed. Eliot didn’t want to get his hopes up in the very likely event that this was a purely physical vacation fling from Quentin’s perspective. And he had to work to keep from giving any indication that it was more than that on his end.

So he channeled that energy into making this good for Q. With another slow tug to Quentin’s hair, Eliot pried his mouth away from Q and bent down to lick a stripe up his neck. He hadn’t shaved since the night before and his skin tasted salty from the ocean water and it was so good. El kissed and nipped at and sucked all over the place, giving Quentin a chance to catch his breath.

Instead, Q’s instinct as soon as his mouth was free was to deliver a near constant stream of words.

“God, Eliot, you’re so _good_ at this.” “You’re just, _fuck_ , you’re so hot.” “That feels amazing. Holy shit.” “That. Yeah. Do that again. _OH_.”

Eliot popped his mouth back off of Q’s nipple where it had ended up and laughed with what could only be described as complete and utter bliss before he kissed his mouth again, hard. This chatty, brave man was exactly as wonderfully expressive as he’d hoped. He was _perfect_ for him.

Quentin was lightly moaning and rubbing his palms up and down Eliot’s back, positively squirming with delight. He couldn’t keep his body still anymore. El thought that Quentin might try to climb him like a tree.

Instead, a jolt of sexual energy went through Q’s whole body and he jerked his hips forward like he couldn’t control the reflex any longer. Eliot gasped at the sudden feeling of Quentin’s hard dick thrusting up against his own and Q hurriedly wrenched his mouth away from the kiss.

Eliot looked down and could see him starting to panic; a million emotions flashed across Quentin’s eyes as he debated what to say. He was still gripping onto Q’s hips, where his hands had settled when he’d started mouthing all over Quentin’s neck and chest.

After a few seconds, Q looked up into Eliot’s eyes with what could only be described as _desperate hunger_ and said, “Fuck, you’re big. Holy shit.”

Relief washed over Eliot and he let out another burst of lighthearted laughter. El had been _certain_ that this minor blunder would send Quentin running for the hills and instead, it only made him want more. “D’you want to see?” Eliot offered, heart pounding, doing his best to keep up his composure.

Suddenly, Q was a vibrating ball of arousal again as he started nodding faster and faster.

Eliot would normally try to draw out a reveal like this, but he was so goddamned eager to see Quentin’s reaction that he couldn’t hold off. He backed up to the edge of the lagoon, squeezed his abs tightly, and lifted himself out of the water with his long arms. And there he was, settling into a seated position along the rocky edge with his dick standing proudly between his spread legs.

Quentin looked down, studying Eliot’s long, perfectly curved, blush pink cock with the sweetest look on his face. His tongue darted out of his mouth as he licked his lips, then he swallowed and asked in the smallest voice, “Can I hold him?”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Quentin _Fucking_ Coldwater was talking about Eliot’s penis like it was a fucking kitten. And he was moving closer by the second.

Eliot grabbed a fistful of his own curly hair, trying to get a grip on reality. His dick twitched noticeably and a warm rush of excitement flooded his belly as he tried to catch his breath. “Q, fuck, absolutely. Where do you wanna go? Hotel? There’s a Green zone not far from here,” El said, suddenly desperate to run as far from these damn Yellow banners as he could. There was one hanging from a tree nearby, taunting him. Whose _fucking_ idea was it to extend the restrictions to the private spots?!

“I don’t want to wait,” Quentin growled, wading over and inserting himself right into the spot between Eliot’s knees. He closed his eyes and pushed up onto his tiptoes, running his nose along Eliot’s jaw. El could’ve sworn he’d heard Quentin give him a good sniff, maybe a leftover fox instinct, and then he gently tugged on Eliot’s earlobe with his teeth.

“Yeah?” Eliot breathed out and wrapped his arms around Q’s shoulders. It wouldn’t be his first time breaking rules and he was _really_ not in a position to resist something he wanted so badly.

“Just a little bit. Then I’ll be good until we get back to the room, I promise,” Quentin whispered and pressed a kiss onto Eliot’s cheek, giving an uncontrollable little full body shake before he reached down and stroked Eliot’s dick, sliding his hand along the entire length.

It felt so fucking good that Eliot practically blacked out for a second, and when he opened his eyes, the two of them were standing, dripping wet and completely naked, in a locked cell.

* * *

Quentin jumped back, clearly startled by their sudden change of scenery. His hands went right between his legs, trying to cover up as soon as he noticed that there were other people just outside the bars. He backed into the corner a few feet away and sat down on the bench, attempting to find a way to cross his legs that didn’t put his goodies on display.

Eliot tried not to look disappointed that they had been interrupted, but he absolutely was. He sighed and leaned back into the cement wall, crossing his arms and making no effort whatsoever to hide his still erect penis.

“Where the fuck are we?” Quentin asked, blushing all the way down to his chest and looking clearly distressed.

“Due to your noncompliance with the rules in a Yellow zone on property, you will need to wait here until someone else in your party is able to escort you back to your hotel room,” stated a clearly very bored staff guard who was sitting at a desk outside of the cell.

That shut Q up immediately; he was clearly embarrassed. He actually looked _sad_ , letting that familiar frown overtake his whole face as he looked down at his bare feet.

“It’s okay, Q. We’ll call Bambi soon and she’ll get us out of here,” Eliot assured him.

Quentin seemed to have lost the ability to look at anyone at the moment. He was even starting to shiver from the air conditioning.

“Hey,” Eliot said as he sat down on the bench as well, making sure to give Quentin some space. Lifting up his hands, El started a spell to help warm him up.

“You can’t cast in here,” their grumpy guard friend barked at them.

El turned the tut motion into an extremely overdramatic shrug, which made Quentin laugh. Just a little bit, but it was something. When Eliot looked back over at him, Q was actually looking back.

“Well won’t _this_ be a story to tell the grandkids,” Eliot said in a drawn out, joking manner.

That time, Quentin bust out into shoulder quaking laughter. He loosened up, leaned back out of his slouch, and pressed a hand onto his belly as it shook.

This was the first time El had really gotten a good look at this much of him and even under the fluorescent lighting, Q was beautiful. All perfectly proportioned features and solid muscles. He was delightfully hairy, with it getting darker on his forearms and down below his navel. And now Eliot realized that he had been caught staring, but he refused to shy away from it.

“What?” El asked with a charming smile, daring Quentin to call him out.

Q shrugged and tried to suppress what was clearly a grin waiting to happen. Oh, he was such a cutie. Eliot found himself wondering if sex would be allowed in _here_ when a man rolled up with a cart containing some sort of magical contraption. 

“Alright folks, you get one call,” the guy said, handing a relatively ordinary-looking over the ear headset through the bars.

Taking the lead on this, Eliot stood up and accepted the headphones. He placed them on his head, then asked, “Could you get ahold of Margo Hanson for me, please?”

After turning a few dials and using what was definitely some kind of psychic spell, the magic phone operator looked up and nodded for Eliot to start talking.

“Hey Bambi, are you there?” El asked.

“...What the fuck are you doing in my head, Eliot?” came a wonderfully familiar voice through the headphones.

“There you are! Well, funny you should ask. I have found myself locked in sex jail with our friend Quentin,” Eliot said, pointedly sending a glance Q’s way. Quentin was just fully smiling now, but still being extremely bashful about it. Eliot was so smitten that he wanted Q to put his clothes back on just so El could rip them all off himself.

“Quentin... Quentin... I’m not sure I’ve heard of him,” Margo said. 

Eliot grinned. He _loved_ her. “Oh, I’m almost positive you’ve met him before. He’s the one with the long, shiny brown hair, the cutest sad pout...” he began describing Quentin, looking him up and down as he spoke. 

“That might ring a bell? Maybe?” she continued the gag, knowing it was probably driving Quentin up the wall even if she wasn’t on the psychic equivalent of speakerphone. 

“He’s usually in the corner reading a book, refusing to have any fun with us?” Eliot added, winking at Q from across the room. Quentin rolled his eyes but he was still smiling. 

“Are you SERIOUS?!” Margo squealed in delight. “I’m so proud of him! I knew there was a rule-breaker in there somewhere.”

“Yeah, well they’re going to leave us in here until you’re able to escort us back to our hotel suite, so if it isn’t any trouble...”

“I’m on my way this second,” Margo said, clearly desperate to get over there and see for herself.

Suddenly, Quentin was waving to try to get Eliot’s attention. “What’s up, Q?” El asked quietly.

“Can she bring me something to wear?” he whispered.

Eliot nodded to communicate that he’d have it handled. “Any chance you could swing by the gift shop on your way and pick up something for our Q to cover up with?” El spoke into the microphone.

All he could hear in response was her loud, joyous cackle of a laugh before the operator disconnected them. “Time’s up,” the man said, reaching out to get the headphones back.

“Thank you, sir,” Eliot said as he removed them and passed them through the bars, then attempted to fix what the headset had done to his hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Quentin was checking out his bare ass. “She’s on her way,” El said as he returned to the bench and sat down, still making no attempt to cover his cock, which had softened up at this point. _Let him look._

They didn’t talk much after that, but the air stayed charged with the energy they’d built up together earlier. The two of them kept catching the other staring, and whenever Eliot’s eyes scanned Quentin’s body, he actually _hoped_ that Q would notice. He wanted him to know that he looked good like this. That he didn’t have to be self-conscious. Eventually, he would find the right time tell him that. It didn’t have to _mean_ anything.

For a while, Quentin’s hands stayed firmly clamped over his junk, but at some point, he’d caught Eliot eye-fucking him enough times that he seemed to care a bit less about staying modest. So eventually, without saying anything, Q let his hands fall away and placed one of them palm up on the bench for Eliot to hold.

When El saw that happen right beside him, he got butterflies in his stomach. Eliot sat up straight as he glanced from Quentin’s open hand to his small but honestly very pretty dick to his warm brown eyes. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask, ‘ _is this for me?’_ and was delighted to see Quentin lift his hand up just slightly to communicate that he wanted him to take it.

It was so simple and so sweet that Eliot’s heart nearly broke just thinking about it. Quentin, who was so embarrassed and sad and unable to even look at him earlier, wanted to hold his hand.

So Eliot reached out and took it, and they had one glorious second with their palms pressed together and fingers intertwined before they heard a buzzer go off and got a brief static shock where they’d made contact.

“No touching,” said the guard without even looking up.

“Come on, seriously?!” Eliot filed his formal complaint in her general direction.

Then, the door to the outside opened and let in a bright beam of sunlight. “Okay, I’m here. Where are they?” Margo asked from across the room, shoes clicking on the floor.

“Our hero!” El called out, standing up to greet her as she was escorted over to their cell.

She signed a few forms, then waited as the guard begrudgingly headed over to unlock their door. “Wait just a moment. I want Quentin to tell me what got them in here in the first place before you let them out,” Margo said as she pressed herself up against the other side of the bars.

“Seriously, Margo?” Q rolled his eyes, scrunching up to cover himself again in the back corner of the cell.

“This is like the best news I’ve received all week. Don’t you dare ruin this for me,” Margo scolded him with her serious eyes, then she looked over at Eliot and her glare softened a little. “Hi, sweetie. Sounds like you’ve had a good day?” she said, reserving a completely different tone of voice for El. 

Eliot made a lip-sealing gesture, pretended to throw away the key, and then winked at her.

They waited in silence for all of about thirty seconds before Quentin lost his patience.

“Ugh, FINE. I touched Eliot’s dick in a Yellow zone,” he admitted, covering his naked cock with one hand and his face with the other. “Will you let us out now?”

Margo started cracking up, finding this incredibly entertaining. “Yes, you can come out. Oh, and this was all they had in the gift shop,” she said, tossing a couple of clothing items through the bars.

* * *

For the walk of shame back to the hotel, Quentin ended up wearing a tiny pair of lacy black briefs and a cropped t-shirt that said “I got fucked at Encanto Oculto”. Honestly, he wasn’t in much of a position to refuse Margo’s choice of outfit, so he just put the clothes on and followed his friends through the resort with nothing but a disgruntled huff.

Eliot, however, walked back totally nude and had no problem with it. He smiled and waved like a king in a parade and at the end of the day, nobody even looked up at either of them. This was Encanto Oculto, after all.

Before long, they had reached the hotel lobby. Margo brought them over to the elevator and waited with them for the next set of doors to open up.

“This is where I leave you. Have fun up there, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said, leaning up to kiss Eliot’s cheek.

“Thank you, Bambi,” El said, then he jumped in surprise as Quentin pulled him by the arm into the newly open elevator.

Once the doors slid shut, Q drew the sigil on the wall with his finger. He was all business right now and Eliot _liked_ it. (Eliot also liked the outfit Quentin was wearing, but he probably wouldn’t tell him that.)

Soon after that, they rushed out of the elevator, unlocked their hotel room door, and went inside.

Eliot clicked the door shut behind them as he suddenly started to worry that the moment had passed, that Quentin had lost his nerve after an hour of total embarrassment. If El had to be the one to get things moving again, he wasn’t totally sure he’d know what to say to make it happen. This was still Quentin.

Luckily, he didn’t have to worry for long.

It only took a few incredibly charged seconds for Q to turn around where he stood and look right into Eliot’s eyes. There was a sweetness there this time, a quiet longing. Like the hunger and the heat had dissipated temporarily, leaving space for something that, for the first time, felt like it might actually be real. Something that was meant specifically for Eliot and not just because Quentin was going off of a fleeting whim.

Eliot could barely move. Q’s look of fondness gently untied his carefully laced up secrets, convincing them that it was safe here, that he was going to be alright if he would just give in to what he wanted.

Would Quentin be able to tell, if Eliot breathed how much this meant to him into his kisses? If he poured every ounce of his soul into Quentin’s willing form? Could he continue to pass it off as in-the-moment passion and plain old expertise, if he let his armor slip just a little?

With more bravery than El could even picture having, Quentin moved closer. The boy in his ridiculous gift shop lingerie reached up to press a hand on Eliot’s racing heart for just a second, feeling it beat against his palm. His eyes darted back up to Eliot’s face again, as if he was surprised to learn how much this was affecting his friend. And then he slid his hand up behind Eliot’s head and pulled him down to his eager, open mouth.

This kiss was gentler than the rest at first. It was a slow hello, a reminder of where they’d been earlier before they’d been interrupted. Eliot wondered if Quentin needed him to take this slow, to ease him carefully into something more intimate.

Then Quentin pulled back for just a second, his eyes wild and just a little wet like he was overcome with the emotion coursing through him. And then he was pressing Eliot’s body up against the door and kissing him like his life depended on it.


	5. Work Your Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating has changed to explicit! This chapter is mostly just smut.

“I want you so bad right now,” Quentin said into Eliot’s mouth as he lowered his hands, slowly guiding them down El’s naked shoulders and chest and belly as he started kissing all over Eliot’s face and neck. “Please. Let me touch you.”

_This was so much and he was so into it._ Eliot was reeling, trying to recover from the whiplash that had been this entire day and now he was coming to terms with the fact that Quentin was like _this_ in private when he’d been shaking like a leaf and hiding behind a book practically _everywhere else._ Even if they never did this again, the memory of this alone would keep Eliot going for a _while._

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Eliot said, meaning for it to come out sounding cool as a cucumber but instead, he was panting through it. He was suddenly grateful for the grounding solidity of the door against his back.

And then Quentin looked down and finally got his hands on Eliot’s dick for more than a second. He touched it lightly at first to test things out and Eliot could tell that Quentin must have really wanted to know what it felt like; maybe he was curiously studying how it differed from his own. Maybe he had wondered or even imagined what Eliot looked like here. Either way, the whole thing was really exciting. It felt good for Eliot to give himself over to someone who really wanted to touch him, who’d been waiting all afternoon to do it.

His nimble fingers danced up its length, starting from the base and he was extra gentle around the head. Eliot wondered whether Q knew to do that because his own penis was super sensitive there. This was one of the most unpredictable hand jobs he’d ever received and something was weirdly intimate about it.

This was hardly the first time his dick had been practically worshipped by a partner, but beyond that, everything about it was new. This was Quentin, who he was already close with, seeing the places Eliot kept tucked away and only wanting him more. This was Q wanting to know him in yet another way, to know _all_ of him and to show him that he could make him feel good.

Out of nowhere, Eliot’s thoughts were interrupted as Quentin finally took hold of his big, hard length in his warm palm and gave it a really subtle squeeze. El jumped a little and gasped, caught off guard by the switch in technique.

Quentin looked up at his face right away to make sure that he was okay.

“I’m into it, Q. You can keep going,” Eliot assured him, slightly embarrassed that he’d reacted so suddenly. This wasn’t supposed to affect him the way it was.

With a satisfied little grin, Q went back to watching his own movements. He wrapped his hand fully around El’s dick and started stroking firmly and slowly, like he needed to see it for himself, to watch the foreskin move along with his hand and see how the pretty pink tip looked as it disappeared into his fist.

Eliot personally found himself staring at Quentin’s face; the way Q was looking at his cock was turning him on almost as much as Quentin’s big, square hands working him did.

“God,” Q whimpered, then laughed a little. “This is happening?” he said, looking up at Eliot again for a second with just this look of _relief._

Eliot, who always grinned like nobody’s business when someone was touching him like this, was super smiley right now. “Oh, it’s happening,” El confirmed, a little delirious.

“And you don’t have like, anywhere else to be right now,” Quentin said as he got that sassy glint in his eye, still running his whole hand up and down Eliot’s considerable length.

“Ah, well, you know, I might have to call and cancel my 5:00 at this point,” Eliot said, turning his head to read his delicate wrist, which did not have a watch on it.

Quentin laughed. Still the best sound in the world. “I can stop if you...”

“Don’t you dare, Coldwater,” El meant it to be stern, but he was still giddy with the feeling of Quentin’s hand. And his gaze.

They’d always had this friendly chemistry, easily slipping into joking conversations and finding themselves on ridiculous adventures together. It made sense that even here, they’d have that same quick-witted banter. Except now, Quentin was letting out little vibrating exhales and... was his mouth watering? He could see a glossy shine on Q’s lower lip as his mouth hung open. Eliot would _definitely_ need to explore that further.

“You’re _into_ this, aren’t you?” Eliot asked seriously, getting really quiet all of a sudden. It was like he couldn’t fully believe what he was seeing right in front of him.

It was almost like him calling attention to Quentin’s clear arousal made it more intense. “ _Yeah_ ,” Q happily sighed, then he added, “You feel so good in my hand. Your skin is like velvet.”

Jesus, how was Eliot still _standing_? This _man_.

“Can’t wait until it’s my turn to touch yours,” Eliot huffed out with a little growl. “I wanna get my mouth on it. Will you let me taste you, Q?”

Quentin sucked in a quick breath of air at the thought and nodded, then looked down again and started to turn his wrist, varying the direction and experimenting a little with his grip. He stroked all the way up to the very tip, then paused to rub his thumb just under the head. The way Quentin practically cooed in excitement over the little bead of precome that bubbled up was almost too much for Eliot, who was reminded yet again that he was positively enamored with him. Q was so eager and attentive and lovely that El could barely handle it.

And then Quentin just _had to_ touch the messy new evidence of how how aroused El was, thumbing the slit and brushing the wetness downward so he could start to slick up the rest of Eliot’s cock as he went back to stroking it. El didn’t even bother trying to hold back the whimper that particular move caused, and Q glanced up with a smile as soon as he heard it.

After that, things plateaued for a bit. Quentin was mostly repeating the same motions but he didn’t really know which were doing it for Eliot. El couldn’t quite find the right moment or words to get things moving in the right direction again; to be honest, he was a bit stuck in his head now that the reality of what was happening had set in.

Eliot found himself thinking that this could only end in heartbreak now that he knew what he’d be missing when Q would inevitably back to their ordinary life and leave his vacation adventure behind. It wasn’t really the best mindset to get stuck in when you were hoping to have an orgasm anytime soon.

Though, Quentin seemed to notice that Eliot wasn’t coming yet, and his outward confidence took a bit of a hit. Finally, Q broke the several minutes of silence and said something. “Does this... am I doing this right?”

_Come on, Eliot. This is_ Quentin. _Work your magic or the moment will be gone._

“You know what? Here. Let me,” Eliot said, finally giving himself permission to take control. He started by working his fingers through a spell to protect them both from any unintended transmissions and a flame lit in his belly when he saw the way Q was gazing at his tutting hands in open-mouthed awe.

Then, El bent down to reach for the hem of Quentin’s gift shop crop top. Eliot undressed him slowly and with such care, gliding his fingertips over exposed skin and placing kisses on his soft tummy as he pulled the shirt up. He briefly lapped at each of Quentin’s nips with his tongue, knowing how much he’d liked that earlier, then stood up so he could lift the soft fabric over Q’s head.

When he could see Quentin’s face again, Q looked grateful and relieved to not be in charge for the time being. Eliot leaned in and kissed his lovely bow-shaped lips one more time, because they were there and he couldn’t not put his mouth on them, then before he could lose his nerve, he knelt down on the hotel floor at Quentin’s feet.

Q’s hard cock was struggling against the thin lace of the briefs he was wearing, with just a hint of a rosy red head poking out of the waistband. Eliot tucked his fingers under the elastic along either side and pulled the piece of fabric down Q’s surprisingly muscular legs. This was the first time El had gotten a really good up close look at Quentin’s dick and it was just as cute and just as delicious-looking as he’d thought. He wanted to get his mouth on it so badly. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned forward and pressed a sweet hello kiss right onto the tip of Quentin’s penis. It was already wet and leaking from how into this Quentin was, and Eliot couldn’t resist licking the salty-sweet taste off of his lips.

And the _sound_ that came out of Quentin’s mouth... Eliot wanted to hear that sound every night for the _rest_ of his _life_. He also wanted to squeeze his ass cheeks, reach under there, and get his fingers on Q’s hole. But for now, El was purposefully being a tease and so he dropped the skimpy underthings down to the floor and stood back up.

“ _Eliot_ ,” Quentin whined, suddenly groping at Eliot and pulling him close now that he could reach him again.

“I’ve got you, baby. Come here,” El purred, bending his knees so he could nestle his cock right up against Quentin’s and thrust _up_ , letting them both feel the velvety glide.

“ _Ohh?_ ” Q moaned like he didn’t know he could feel this way. Like he’d never thought this was something he wanted and it caught him off guard. Eliot had so much to show him.

Without much warning, El wrapped both of his big, soft hands around their dicks and started jerking both of them together, pairing that motion with occasional hip thrusts, aligning himself perfectly with Q’s wonderful little erection.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Quentin said, sounding almost _excited_ now that he’d realized what this was going to feel like. He wrapped both of his arms around Eliot’s neck and leaned his head in to rest it on his shoulder. Q’s hips jumped of their own accord and he whimpered again.

“That’s it,” Eliot spoke softly into Quentin’s ear, which was now conveniently located right alongside El’s mouth. _Prime dirty talk position._ Now that he’d proved he could stay fully in control of his emotions, Eliot had no problem playing the role he’d slipped into. “You’re gonna come for me soon, aren’t you, Q?” he asked, low and heavy in his throat.

Quentin maybe tried to laugh but it sounded more like a sob. “That’s a definite possib... fuck, El,” Q answered, not even able to make it through the sentence.

“And after you come, I want to take you into the shower and touch you all over. Get you so nice and clean and relaxed for me,” Eliot continued as he stroked them both in earnest. “Would you like that?”

That time, Q let out a little cry, reacting just as much to El’s words as he was to his touch. Eliot’s stomach flipped at the thought that he was doing this to the boy who meant so much to him. He was making Quentin feel incredible, _finally._

Unfortunately, that also meant that Eliot’s plan to talk the guy up to his orgasm was going to be quite the challenge. He was quickly losing his carefully crafted composure.

“Mmm, ugh. You’re so... so fucking _perfect_ for me right now,” El panted, pressing a kiss into Quentin’s sweaty hair. “Then I wanna... I wanna lay you down on my bed and spread you out and get my mouth all over you, Q. Can I?”

“God yes. _Please_ ,” Quentin said, mouthing gently at the sensitive place above Eliot’s collarbone.

Like this, with Eliot’s hands around them both, the size difference between them was especially obvious. El loved it, finding out right away that what Q lacked in measurements he made up for in wetness; Quentin’s precome kept both of them well lubricated as Eliot used the slow drag of his extra length to make Q feel amazing. El could also already tell that Quentin’s dick would be a perfect mouthful.

They were both getting so close. Quentin started grabbing tentatively at Eliot’s ass, then as soon as he’d realized it was okay to touch him there too, he was pulling El in and up, desperate for more friction right where he needed it.

And then Q was coming all over their hands, crying out and biting at Eliot’s neck to try and suppress the divine sounds he was making. El should have _known_ that Q would be bitey; he’d always noticed the way something came over Quentin whenever he had something in his mouth, and _fuck_ now Eliot was coming too, gasping and laughing and watching his own release leave wet stripes on Quentin’s chest hair and belly and making a total mess of them both.

They held onto each other for a few minutes, giving themselves a chance to catch their breath.

Eliot could tell the exact minute when Quentin became self-conscious about being naked and covered in someone else’s jizz; Q retracted, backing up and refusing to make any eye contact or say anything about what had just happened between them.

And El, who was suddenly filled with nothing but affection for the man and how beautifully vulnerable Quentin had allowed himself to be, reached forward and took Q’s chin in his slick fingers. He tilted it up, watching Quentin’s expression carefully, then leaned down and pressed one gentle kiss onto his lips.

The soft sound of suction hung in the air for a few extremely heavy seconds as he pulled back. Quentin looked into Eliot’s eyes with a note of confusion. Then, he seemed to understand, because his expression settled into something gentler, something sadder. “ _Eliot_ ,” he said simply.

Well, _fuck._

_Stand up straight, control your face, and get back to business, Waugh._

“Shower?” Eliot asked, taking hold of Quentin’s hand and leading him directly into the hotel suite bathroom.

* * *

El got to work right away, getting the rainfall shower head to just the right temperature and dropping a fizzy tab onto the shower floor that made the steamy room smell like lavender and mint. The sense of deja vu wasn’t lost on him as he set every detail into place; not that long ago, he was preparing a bath for this same boy back in the Physical Kids Cottage.

Except this time, Eliot would be joining him. This time, El would be washing his own come off of Q’s belly. And this time, he had a sneaking suspicion that Quentin was now at least marginally aware that Eliot’s feelings for him went totally beyond the blasé attitude he’d been working to project.

A tiny spark of hope coursed through him as El turned to find Quentin watching him. If Q gave enough of an indication that the feelings were mutual, well, that would be _something._ Of course, it would take an awful lot for El to feel safe admitting to anything out loud. He found himself wishing that Q would be braver than he was.

Quentin was holding a stack of clean, fluffy towels and washcloths in his arms and looking like he wanted to be helpful. “I found these in the closet,” Q said, clearly waiting for directions. _So cute._

“That’s perfect, baby. Hang those up for me?” Eliot said, having fully committed to the pet name by now, as he took the washcloths and pointed in the direction of two empty metal hooks on the wall. He could call his close platonic friend ‘baby’ while fussing over him and giving him incredible orgasms, right? That was normal.

Once everything was in place, Eliot reached out for Quentin’s hand again and guided him into the spacious walk-in shower. Q began to rinse himself off while El filled a washcloth with nice-smelling body wash and lathered it up.

He could tell that Quentin was still heading into shy, self-conscious territory while he started shampooing his own hair. As soon as they were no longer actively seeking out pleasure, Eliot noticed that Q was doing little things to try to make himself look smaller. Quentin was crossing his arms in front of his body, slouching his shoulders, and looking down at their feet as the water rushed down the drain. Maybe this _was_ a little weird. Showering together was a pretty intimate thing to do with a friend.

“Is it okay that I’m here, Q?” Eliot asked quietly, staying back a bit. “If you need time alone, that’s alright.”

“No, I... no, stay,” Quentin said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel... I’m... you’ve been so wonderful, I want you here, I just.” And then he turned around, facing away from Eliot and leaning his head up so he could rinse his hair under the shower head. El watched the muscles of his back as Q took a deep breath and let it out.

“You can tell me,” El said. And then he waited.

“I’m not really comfortable with my body, the way you are?” Quentin barely managed to say, softly under his breath, but Eliot heard. “I’ll be okay. It’s fine. But I uh, sometimes I get stuck worrying about it.”

Eliot kind of already knew this; it made sense. He’d noticed the way Quentin sometimes shrunk under his gaze or piled on loose layers of clothing or preferred to be where nobody could see him. Q’s cheeks rosied up whenever anyone called too much attention to him and sure, Eliot may have occasionally enjoyed having that effect on him.

But now that Eliot had seen Quentin in all his glory, this idea that this guy was hurting over something El liked so much... well, he needed to say something about it, didn’t he? He knew that he couldn’t change something that ran so deep, but maybe he could give Q another voice to keep the negative one company.

“Okay, so here’s the thing. Can I touch you?” Eliot said matter-of-factly, stepping under the stream of water, closer to Quentin’s back.

As soon as Quentin nodded, El nudged him gently out of the spray and began running the washcloth all over his back and arms. He covered him with sweet-smelling suds, spreading them around with his big, wet hands.

“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?” Eliot said, his voice cracking a little. “I mean, I’ve definitely told you as much. I know I joke around about it, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable by doing that. But at the end of the day, I’m a big fan of this body because my friend’s in there. I care about him. And I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be embarrassed about it; not in front of me.”

Eliot’s ability to make other people feel good had always been a super power of his. Whether he was fucking them or just trying to remind them that they’re not alone, what to do or say usually came naturally to him. So yes, this was a lot for him to admit but once the words had left Eliot’s mouth, he stood by them. He could objectively appreciate someone else’s beauty, right? He’d remind Quentin of that if he had to.

“Thank you, Eliot,” Quentin said. The words sounded a little wet. It was probably just the shower. Either way, Q visibly unclenched and Eliot took the opportunity to move in the rest of the way and press himself up against Quentin’s back. That position allowed him to reach his arms around Q and start washing his front side.

El went quiet after that. He’d already said enough, really, so he concentrated on giving Q’s whole body a good, slow, thorough cleaning. And that meant that he wasn’t intending to shy away from Quentin’s private parts, though he did break the silence to make sure that was okay first. If they were going to continue on with Eliot’s plan for the late afternoon, Q would need to be extra squeaky clean down there. And they _had_ been sitting on a beach for half the day, so really, it needed to be done anyway.

By the time Eliot got to that point, Quentin was totally relaxed and leaning his head back on Eliot’s shoulder, gripping hold of the grab bar mounted to the wall for balance. Their position made it easy to lightly encourage Q’s leg up onto the bench, giving Eliot the ability to reach under there with the soapy cloth.

Eliot was relieved to find that Quentin was already growing hard again as he gave him a gentle scrub. Then he moved to Q’s balls, soaping them up as well. But when he slid the cloth back to circle it over his anus, Quentin let out the sweetest little whine. He wasn’t even directly touching the tight hole with his fingers yet, but _that_ was encouraging.

“You like that?” Eliot asked, low in Q’s ear as he cleaned that spot super carefully with the soft washcloth.

“Mmhmm,” Quentin whimpered.

El could feel something stirring deep in his core, an intense need. He ignored it for now. “Ever had anyone inside you here?” Eliot checked, already thinking ahead toward his next moves, because that was going to affect how he went about it, if they went there. And because his curiosity was a wild animal he could no longer tame, apparently.

Quentin very slowly shook his head no. “I haven’t had the um, I never really felt okay asking for it, but I like it? A lot, actually,” Q’s torso gave a happy shake. El could see the blush reaching his chest.

“So you’ve... fucked yourself on your fingers? Or a dildo?” Eliot asked, surprisingly comfortable talking about masturbation techniques with Quentin.

“The first one,” Q clarified, swallowing. He closed his eyes as El continued massaging his most sensitive hidden places with the wet cloth.

Okay. Eliot could _definitely_ work with that. “I’d love to get in there after this, if you’d let me,” El said honestly. “My fingers, maybe my tongue... we can even work you up to taking my dick if you wanted that.”

Quentin stood up straight again, regaining his balance, and turned around to talk to Eliot face-to-face, letting El pull the washcloth away. “Seriously? That’s... you’d do that, for me?” he seemed to want to make sure, as if Q’s past partners had made him feel wrong for having interest in anal. _Who the hell was this man hooking up with?_

El let out a soft laugh. “Q, it would hardly be a sacrifice on my end. I like it too, bud,” he assured him.

And now Quentin was looking at him like he was a fucking God. What was Eliot supposed to do with _that_?

“Here, can I clean you out? There’s a spell...” El said, starting to position his hands.

“There’s a SPELL?” Quentin nearly shouted, looking flat-out _giddy._ Oh, Eliot had _so_ much to teach him. He never could have predicted that Q would be the live wire in bed that he’d turned out to be, but Eliot was grateful as hell for it.

With a quick nod, Eliot molded Quentin’s hands into the right shapes, showing him exactly how to move them, and then he placed them onto Q’s lower belly. He could tell exactly when the spell took hold, because Quentin was reacting beautifully to the fizzy-cool feeling of being cleaned from the inside. Q gripped onto Eliot’s shoulder for a moment until the sensation passed, then he looked up at him gratefully.

“Well, you’re all clean now. My turn?” Eliot said, throwing Q’s cloth over to the bench and grabbing the unused one he’d placed aside. He handed the new washcloth to Quentin with an expectant smile, not even really hiding his delight when Q took it gladly.

Quentin had a bit more of a challenge when it came to soaping up Eliot’s body, since El was so much taller than Q. But he did admirably, reaching and practically climbing around with his washcloth and blushing pretty much constantly.

When it was time to clean between Eliot’s legs, Q froze. Luckily, Eliot was paying attention. “Here, I’ve got it,” El said, reaching out for the washcloth and taking over without a hitch.

Q seemed relieved that Eliot had swooped in and saved him. He kept his eyes on El’s face while Eliot finished up, studying his features with a kind of baffling smile, honestly. What was he _thinking?_

“You look happy,” El commented, giving his washcloth a toss now that he was done.

Quentin laughed and hid his face, bumping the top of his head into Eliot’s chest and holding it there. “I kinda am? I’m here with _you_ ,” he admitted with a little squeak.

Eliot’s jaw dropped for just a second before he got ahold of himself and readjusted his expression, feeling grateful that Quentin hadn’t been looking at his face right then. Did Q like him? El simply wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug and leaned down to press a kiss into his wet hair.

They let the moment hang in the steam-filled air, listening to the water fall around them, and then Quentin lifted his head and kissed Eliot’s mouth softly.

_Oh._


	6. Right Here

Eliot gave Quentin explicit instructions to dry himself off, brush his teeth, and make himself comfortable in El’s bed _(“And don’t you dare put any clothes on!”),_ then he rushed off into the main area of the suite to prepare a few things. He filled two glasses of cold water from the filter attachment on the sink and grabbed a few pieces of fresh fruit and some napkins. Then, once they were all arranged on a tray, he used a showy bit of telekinesis to guide the whole thing into his room and onto the foot of the bed.

“I just realized that we haven’t eaten since breakfast,” El said as he clicked the bedroom door shut behind him with a wave of his hand. “And hydration is important. So drink up.”

Quentin pouted and reluctantly took a few gulps of water while Eliot climbed onto the bed next to him. Their brief meal wasn’t without its moments; El couldn’t resist the opportunity to try hand feeding Q even though Quentin couldn’t get through it without laughing and making kind of a mess.

However, the drips of sticky sweet juice were nothing a little magic couldn’t fix and before long, they were both nourished and feeling ready to move back to something more intimate. Q in particular was practically bursting at the seams at the idea of getting fingered or rimmed or fucked and Eliot could tell because he kept _looking_ at him with those puppy dog eyes and moving like it was hard for him to sit still for this long.

Eliot, who for some reason had nothing but patience right now, moved the tray across the room and onto the dresser with his mind. And when his attention returned to Q, his eyes went dark and he said, “Lay down. On your back.” He was all business right now because if he let himself think too hard about what this meant, he would probably crumble.

Not needing to be told twice, Q scrambled to follow the instructions. Eliot reached for one of the pillows and slid it under Quentin’s hips, then he climbed on top of him, caging Q in under his long limbs. He started pressing his mouth all along Quentin’s neck, intending to move slowly downward just to get him warmed up and pliant first.

“I want to hear from you, okay?” Eliot said between kisses. “Tell me what’s working for you and what isn’t.”

Quentin nodded, flicking his eyes up to the ceiling. “Okay,” he agreed.

And with that, he was off. Eliot loved having free rein of Q’s body, sliding his warm hands and open mouth all over it. Quentin’s tummy was so cute and small, and El licked a long stripe up it just because he could, loving the giggle that the motion drew out of Q. He briefly considered the idea that he could do this every day and never get bored, forever kept entertained by how responsive and excited and _gorgeous_ Quentin was, then he carefully placed the thought aside.

He eventually reached the general area where Quentin’s cock was standing proudly between his legs. After laying several kisses onto the sensitive skin next to his hip bones, Eliot nuzzled right up to the warm, hard length, burying his nose in the fuzzy hair at its base. Q smelled so _good_ here that it made Eliot’s mouth water, so he gently took him into his mouth without warning.

“Yep! That is, _ohhh_ ,” Quentin said, bucking his hips up just a little before he recovered and tried to hold still.

El pulled his mouth off with a quick pop. “Good?” he checked in, knowing full well how good it was. Eliot Waugh knew his way around.

With a quick little whine, Quentin nodded. “Eliot, your _mouth_ ,” he practically moaned. His naked hips gave a little shimmy, like he wanted El back on there as soon as possible.

Eliot couldn’t hold back the grin on his face. _Q was seriously adorable._ Since he was absolutely powerless to resist, El rubbed the inside of Quentin’s thigh and sank his mouth back down on Q’s dick. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of him against his tongue, sliding back and forth between his lips.

This certainly wasn’t going to be the main attraction, but since Eliot didn’t know how many more times he would have the opportunity to do this, he figured it would be a good warmup. And as he sucked and licked and tasted, he reached behind Q’s balls until the pads of his fingers found the furled little bundle he’d been looking forward to getting acquainted with.

He circled the hole with his thumb first, rubbing gently to give Quentin a chance to get used to the sensation. Eliot was fully prepared to ease into it. And as the sensitive spot loosened up, El let Q’s dick fall out of his mouth so he could start licking his hole instead.

After nudging Quentin’s legs apart and spreading him wide, Eliot took a quick look at what he was working with. This man was fucking cute _everywhere_ , and his perfect little ass was no exception. Realizing that he didn’t want to make this weird by staring for too long, El took a breath and dove in.

Q squeaked happily and this... this was not typically something Eliot did for someone this early on in his sexual experience with them. But between Quentin’s sweet enthusiasm for the idea of finally getting some action down here and the fact that Eliot was absolutely smitten with him, he had absolutely no reservations about pressing his nose up against Quentin’s perineum and tonguing the responsive little muscle, feeling him twitch and open up on his mouth. El was able to get inside just enough to feel Quentin’s hole clench around him just a little, which drew out another whimper from Q.

“Holy shit,” Quentin remarked, letting out a little laugh. “ _That’s_ what this feels like?”

Eliot smiled in there, then licked one last wide stripe over the puckered spot before sitting up again so he could talk to Q. He’d meant for it to be just a taste, before he got things really moving. But at the loss of that raw closeness, he found himself hoping he’d get a chance to do that again someday.

“Hey, I’m gonna ease one finger in, okay?” Eliot said, quickly performing a one-handed tut that slicked up his fingers while he waited for Q’s nod. When Quentin indicated that he was good to go, Eliot started by pushing in up to the first bend in his index finger and moving it in a circle just inside the tiny ring of muscle. The more motions he made, the more easily the area stretched and loosened around him. It didn’t take long though; Quentin had clearly gotten this far before. He took his time pushing his finger in deeper and found little resistance, then began slowly petting inside him.

“That feels so good, El,” Q moaned. His body twitched, back arching just a bit before he eased back into the mattress.

Pretty soon, Eliot was able to bend and hook that finger, listening carefully for hints that Q was liking anything specific. Almost right away, he found Quentin’s prostate and he took a moment to give it a slow massage. It was already starting to swell up a little.

“There, right there; ohhh,” Quentin moaned, letting his eyes flutter closed and his torso wiggle excitedly. Eliot was so damn happy to be able to see Quentin’s face as he reacted to the feeling.

Then, just to keep things interesting, El pressed a second finger in alongside the first and started to build up a rhythm as he slid them in and out. He made sure to brush up against that sensitive gland on every other stroke, and before long, Quentin was breathing heavily and making all kinds of lovely, low noises in his throat. He’d also just seemed to figure out that he could move his hips to meet Eliot’s hand as he pressed in.

“You’re doing so well for me,” Eliot purred, placing a kiss near Q’s navel. His skin was so soft on his stomach.

“El... Eliot... more. I’m almost there. I need more,” Quentin panted as he balled his fists in this sheets beneath him.

So Eliot slipped in a third long, expressive finger, rubbing as deep inside him as he could reach. He was so tight in here, but so willing and so eager to be filled up. “How’s that, baby?” El breathed out.

“So good. Oh God, I want your dick. I want it so bad. Is that... is that too much? Ohh,” Q whimpered and moaned and mumbled, making these desperate, needy sounds.

El had _definitely_ been thinking about what it would feel like to climb on top of him and slide his erection in there. He wanted so badly to show Quentin what that would feel like, to wrap his arms around him and fuck into his tight heat gently at first, until he was absolutely sure that Q could handle his wild, unrestrained thrusts. Eliot just _knew_ he could make it so good for him.

But something told him this wasn’t the time. “I know you would feel so fucking good on me but I don’t want to hurt you, Q. Let’s ease our way into it, okay? Another time,” El said as he intently rubbed his fingers over Quentin’s swollen prostate again. “Do you think you can come just like this?” he asked.

“Oh, definitely. I... could... now? Didn’t want it to end,” Quentin panted. He was practically shaking.

_Well, wasn’t that a pleasant surprise?_ Eliot shifted again, bracing himself on the bed with one arm while he worked his right hand faster and faster inside Quentin’s ass, nimble fingers knowing exactly where to go. El had memorized hundreds of hand positions for casting spells and all of that work did wonders for what he could accomplish with those hands in here. “Go on if you want to, baby. I’ve got you,” he encouraged him.

Just as Q started to climax, he reached down and grabbed onto Eliot’s free hand, squeezing it tightly. It was just about the sweetest fucking thing El had ever seen, and before he could even really react to it, Quentin’s ass was clenching down on his fingers as he came.

This time was totally different from the first; Q kept going and going. He developed this wonderful blush that went all the way down to his chest and his toes were curling. To be downright cliché, it was magical.

When it had finally run its course, Quentin laid there catching his breath as Eliot really carefully slid his fingers back out. He debated what to do next, casting a passing glance in the direction of the bathroom where he could get them both cleaned up, but then Q started tugging on his hand, beckoning him to come back up for a cuddle.

“Don’t go anywhere?” Q said so quietly, just barely above a whisper.

And Eliot, who was powerless to resist the request, crawled back up by the pillows and wrapped his arms around Q from the side. He scooped him right up, feeling his heart melt just a little as Quentin turned in towards him and snuggled into his chest. “I’m right here, I’ll stay, I promise,” El said as he pressed a kiss onto Q’s hairline.

Eliot immediately became aware of the feeling of so much of their bare skin touching. While he’d managed to keep a surprisingly level head throughout this particular round, not even minding that Quentin was getting all of the attention, something about this part was really doing it for him. His mind drifted to the fact that his own cock was still achingly hard.

That is, until Q started overthinking.

“Hey El?” he spoke up, ear pressed up against Eliot’s heart.

“Uh huh?” Eliot asked, bracing himself. He was in no way prepared to have anything remotely approaching a serious conversation about his feelings immediately after licking Quentin Coldwater’s asshole.

Quentin paused for a moment, then opened his mouth. It hung open briefly before he began to speak. “Before. When we were about to get in the shower, I thought I saw... you’d kissed me so softly, and then you looked at me like...” he seemed to be struggling with words, which was not out of the ordinary for Q, but Eliot was definitely not going to try to predict where this monster of a sentence was headed.

And then Q got his train of thought back, but he took it in what seemed like a totally different direction. “I know I’ve been nervous here, it’s uh... not my usual scene, and you’ve been so patient and nice about it, but...”

El felt Quentin squirm against him. He did not like where this was heading, though there was a distinct possibility that it was not actually headed anywhere soon given how much Q was rambling to avoid the point. Either way, Eliot stayed completely still, as if any movement or hint of affection would give everything away.

Then, Quentin took in a deep breath and finally managed to get it out. “Is this... what we’re doing, is it _more_ than just you trying to help me have fun on vacation?”

If Eliot thought his brain had been short-circuiting before, well, this was much worse. His every nerve was shouting LIE and RUN and DON’T, which made it incredibly difficult for him to formulate a response that somehow protected himself while also avoiding hurting Quentin. But no matter how long he replayed that kind of adorably choppy little monologue in his head, he couldn’t figure out whether Quentin was preparing to let him down easily or hoping that Eliot would _want_ something more.

But he had to say _something_ , so Eliot did the best he could given the circumstances. Thank God their position made it impossible for Quentin to try and make eye contact with him right now.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Eliot said, completely honestly. His skin was crawling; he suddenly felt so guilty for _finally_ having this guy naked in his arms and still not being able to handle a conversation about what it meant to him. In a fit of overprotective internal monologue, El settled on the idea that Q deserved better than this. He deserved someone better than Eliot.

Quentin just stayed quiet, apparently intending to give Eliot some time to think about it.

With another deep breath, El settled on a plan and carefully tried to execute it. “I know that it takes you a little while to adjust to new places, so I did want to make sure you had a really good time, if you were open to it. You’re one of my closest friends and I would do anything for you; I mean, that should be evident. I literally just massaged the inside of your body because you mentioned that you liked that.”

Q laughed against his chest. _Good. Okay._

“And alright, _maybe_ I couldn’t stop myself once I found out that you couldn’t get any of your past partners to offer to give you anal because honestly _who the fuck are those people_ and I just _couldn’t_ let that stand,” Eliot said, taking his time to get through it. “Anyway, what I’m saying is that I’m here right now because I care about you but it doesn’t have to mean anything beyond that.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie. But in the sizable chance that Quentin was freaking out about what had just happened, it would give him an out. It would tell him that Eliot was totally fine with the idea of moving on like it wasn’t a big deal. And if he wanted to salvage any scrap of their friendship after this, it was what he needed to do.

“Okay,” Q stated simply. “If that’s... I want to make sure I’m not holding you back. You know, if you want to sleep with other people here. Erm, people with more experience.”

Eliot let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The answer was neutral enough to suggest that Quentin wasn’t upset. He also picked up on the vibe that Q was questioning his own skill level and feeling inadequate, and he had to do something about _that_ immediately.

“Previous offer stands, if you still want it sometime this week,” El threw out there with a playful lilt in his tone, not forgetting even for a minute that he’d offered to put his dick in Quentin once things were a little less new.

“Oh, I’m gonna want it,” Quentin said immediately after the sentence came out of El’s mouth. Eliot could hear him smiling. He pulled him in tighter and pressed a kiss into Q’s hair.

They were going to be alright.

* * *

When they woke up, it was dark outside. Eliot heard footsteps coming up to his door, which opened and let some light in. He felt Quentin burrow under the sheets beside him.

“Don’t cover up on my account, but it’s almost 10PM. I brought back some takeout from dinner, so eat up. I want to go dancing,” Margo said, looking especially smug.

Eliot heard an adorable little grumble coming from the warm press of skin against his side. “Do I have to?” Q whined.

“You don’t have to, but _I’m_ going to,” El said, laughing a little.

And that’s how all three of them eventually ended up here, at a Red level nightclub with an open air balcony looking over the ocean. It was quite a bit tamer than Margo preferred, but Eliot really wanted Quentin to come along and the clothing requirement helped.

Granted, she only accepted the terms once Eliot reminded her that all zones turned Green at 2AM. And it was already approaching midnight by the time they were fed, dressed up, and heading into the dark, loud space filled with colorful lights.

Eliot watched Quentin’s eyes track said lights around the room, trying to figure out where they were coming from. “Magic, Q,” El leaned in and gave away the admittedly obvious secret. This place was almost entirely decorated with various enchantments.

“Wow,” Q replied genuinely, allowing himself to be pulled by the arm by Margo right onto the dance floor, which was also lit up.

This club really wasn’t any less adequate than the others, and to be honest, Eliot was fond of it because he liked to see everyone dressed to the nines. The other clubs provided an excuse to be lazy about what you wore, since it was coming off pretty much right away anyway. He would never admit that to Margo though, who was currently reeling his crush in for a dance.

“You got any moves, Coldwater?” Margo asked as she started moving her hips to the beat.

Quentin was clearly trying to look cool as he kind of bopped back and forth, but Eliot saw the corner of his mouth quirk up just a little when he said, “Um, I don’t think so?”

The boy still wasn’t used to the fact that Margo and Eliot were his _friends_. And that they actually wanted him around.

“Try me,” she said, fully expecting to get to grind up on Q before the night was over. Eliot could see it in her eyes; she was testing him, and El was not going to stand in her way.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” El said with a huge smile on his face, then he made himself scarce as he caught a glimpse of a hesitantly grooving Quentin trying to figure out what to do with his hands.

Who cared if he and Quentin weren’t suddenly in a boring, committed relationship after their romantic whirlwind of a day together? He was here, ordering some thoughtfully crafted mixed drinks that definitely had magic ingredients in them, about to go dance with his two favorite people in the world. This was everything he wanted.

And when he walked back from the bar, gracefully carrying all three glasses without spilling a drop, he couldn’t stop grinning at the scene he returned to.

Margo was rubbing up against Quentin’s groin to the low bass in the music, looking positively delighted with herself as she watched the way he was reacting to her. And Q was blushing bright red, trying to hide the fact that he was on the brink of giddy, hysterical laughter at the situation he had managed to get himself into. His arms had managed to settle in a perfectly respectable place slung low around her hips, so his hands were loosely clasped and not actually touching anything.

For the next few songs, Eliot hung back and watched them as he sipped from his drink. They were both incredibly attractive people; sue him for enjoying the view. And on top of that, he was impressed by the fact that Margo had somehow managed to loosen Quentin up. She was whispering jokes in his ear and making him laugh. She was encouraging him to have _fun._

Then, when the music transitioned to another new song, Eliot took the opportunity to swoop in and hand Margo her cocktail. “You’ll like this, Bambi,” he said, then he turned to Quentin, who seemed simultaneously excited and flustered. Before giving the remaining glass to the guy, he leaned in close to his ear. “Hey, I was a little ambitious with my choice for you - it has some magical properties so I wanted to run that by you. Help with your nerves. Reduce your inhibitions a little. You might see a few extra rainbows.”

Quentin’s face did something complicated.

“I can get you something else if you don’t want it; really, I’m almost done with my first so it wouldn’t go to waste,” El said with absolute sincerity, moving back a little so he could get a proper read on Q’s eyes.

“No, I uh... that actually sounds like it might be great right now? Is it... can I still...” Q said, gazing up at Eliot and blending something like relief with his usual dash of panic. “There are just so many people here.”

“You’ll have full control over all of your decisions, you’ll just have an easier time making them. And you probably won’t worry as much. For the night, at least,” Eliot elaborated. “Magical substances play well with traditional meds too - they don’t compete with them, they just kind of layer on top. There is actual alcohol in here too though, so just keep that in mind.”

With that, Quentin reached out to grab the glass, lightly brushing his hand against Eliot’s fingers, and took a drink. He considered the taste for a second, then his eyes widened. “You weren’t kidding about the rainbows!” he said as the corner of his mouth turned up. 

“Alright! Thanks for the drinks, El, but someone needs to dance with me or I’m leaving,” Margo interrupted them as she hooked an arm around Eliot’s neck and started moving again.

Luckily, Eliot was a total pro at dancing with a drink in his hand, so he more than happily obliged. “How’d you get Coldwater to dance with you like that?” El asked, kind of yelling over the music as he picked up Margo’s empty hand and spun her around.

“Cause I’m me,” Margo replied like it was the most obvious answer, turning and shaking her ass up against Eliot’s thighs. She really was so much smaller than he was. “He couldn’t resist.”

“I’m right here, you guys,” Quentin said, taking another sip of his drink as he stood there awkwardly. He was clearly entertained, but he needed to be a brat about it anyway.

Eliot, who still could not wipe the smile off of his face, reached his free hand over to point halfway up Quentin’s drink glass. “You go ahead and finish up to here, and then you can join us,” El laughed, good-naturedly teasing because obviously Q would spill that thing all over them if he tried to dance right now.

“I’m working on it,” Q mumbled with the glass up against his lips. He laughed a little and some of the drink drizzled down his chin.

Margo didn’t miss a beat and swung over, taking Eliot with her, then she licked the drip right off of his face. Q’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head in response.

“You had something right there,” she rationalized like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

Eliot, however, let his entire jaw drop right in the middle of the devilish grin on his face. “Bambi,” he said, half scolding, half impressed. He adored this woman.

“What, you aren’t sharing?” she called El out, raising an eyebrow. _A challenge._

With that, he got a little quieter. “He’s not mine to share. Ask him yourself,” Eliot shrugged. He tried really hard not to pay attention to whatever Q’s face was probably doing after he said that. To be honest, Eliot didn’t want to know.

Margo gave Eliot a pointed look before letting go of him. Then, she turned to Quentin who was still looking absolutely stunned and possibly also turned on. “You up for more mouth action, puppy?” she asked, point-blank.

And for whatever reason, Quentin immediately looked up at Eliot, as if he was looking for some kind of answer there. What was _that_ about? Quite honestly, if El had to pick anyone besides himself for Q to make out with at Encanto, it would be Bambi. He simply didn’t get jealous of her because while they weren’t always on the same page, they were fully aware of whatever page the other one was on at any given time. It was rarely a competition with them, even if they tried to make it appear that way; they were almost always playing on the same team.

Q seemed to gather that exact information from Eliot’s face, took another large gulp of his drink, then returned his eyes intently to Margo, who was finishing up her drink. “Yeah, okay,” he said, not entirely confident but clearly sure that right now, he wanted this.

Thinking quickly, Eliot reached over and collected their drinks so Margo could move right in and kiss Quentin full on the mouth. He left them alone for a few minutes while he dropped off the empties, then transferred Q’s remaining drink into a spare flask he’d happened to have on him, just in case he wanted more of it later.

Before he could psych himself out, Eliot took a deep breath and moved closer to where his two best friends were making out. Quentin’s eyebrows had shot up to his hairline in response to whatever Margo was doing to his mouth, and she definitely would’ve left by now if she wasn’t pleased with how the kiss was going.

For a moment, he hesitated as he wondered if he should give his girl some space, but then he saw Quentin’s little shoulders shiver and he couldn’t not kiss them. So he parked himself right up against Quentin’s backside, politely growled, “Incoming, Q,” and began pressing his lips right there, through his t-shirt. At a resort that was basically designed to host orgies, Eliot wanted to make sure Q knew it was him. 

Then, he thought he heard a little “Mmm” of approval coming from Quentin, so Eliot brought up his hand to brush Q’s hair away from his neck so he could lean down and kiss his bare skin there.

As soon as he started to worry that maybe this was the wrong move, he felt Q’s hand reaching back and awkwardly feeling around Eliot’s leg. When he finally found El’s hand, he easily slid his palm up against Eliot’s and gave it a soft squeeze, intertwining their fingers. _Oh._

The three of them continued like this for a little while, with Margo handling Quentin’s mouth and chest while Eliot held up the rear. They couldn’t do much beyond this with the Red zone restrictions, but that wouldn’t matter for much longer. It was honestly pretty hot, the fact that they couldn’t let their hands drift anywhere but they clearly all wanted to and therefore they had to focus that energy in one specific place.

It was like they were moving in slow motion, concentrating one hundred percent on the task at hand. Eventually, Eliot began gently grinding into Quentin as the bass thumped into the floor which set off a chain reaction. Before they knew it, they were all moving and kissing and holding onto each other like their lives depended on it.

When she was ready to share, Margo gave Q a quick 180º spin and started licking up the outer edge of his ear from the back, lightly grazing her fingernails along his scalp. Eliot wasn’t expecting this, but when he suddenly found Quentin gazing up at him with his eyes blown black and his lips bitten pink and swollen, he couldn’t help leaning down and claiming his mouth.

He found Quentin just as desperate to kiss him, pulling at the back of El’s vest and arching up on his tiptoes to get better access to Eliot’s mouth. El could feel Q’s soft intake of breath as he opened up and brushed his tongue against Quentin’s. And from there, El placed both of his hands on Quentin’s face because if he didn’t put them somewhere safe quickly, all three of them would probably end up back in sex jail.

It appeared that Q had a similar thought on his mind because not even thirty seconds later, he pulled away from Eliot’s mouth and asked, “What time is it?” with a devilish glint in his eye.

Eliot had to remind himself that this was real life, because this was the second time in one day that Q was contemplating breaking the rules. He quickly looked around for a clock, still gently pressing his warm palms against the delightfully sharp stubble on Quentin’s cheeks. “1:45AM,” El said with a brush of his thumb. “Can you wait?”

With a nod, Quentin said, “I think so?” and then he tilted his head slightly to give Margo better access to his neck where she was sucking and biting at him. “Could... could you help distract me?” he asked, quieter. El thought he saw a hint of nervousness, even now.

“Here,” Eliot wrapped his long arms around both of them, the two people he cared for most in the world. He leaned over to kiss Quentin’s cheek, then said into his ear, “Tell me what you want to do when the zone turns Green.”

Quentin visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. _Fuck._ “I... I want to get my mouth on you. Both of you, maybe?” he said, breathing heavily already.

“Here? Or someplace more private,” Eliot asked as he moved his head back again so he could read Quentin’s expression. His hips were still grinding against them, slower now to match the pace of the current song.

“Right here,” Q clarified, looking right into Eliot’s eyes. _Shit, he was brave._

“I’m first,” Margo called out, metaphorically taking her place in line.

Eliot let out a laugh that was more like a flustered huff of air. Q was the only person who ever made him feel like this, like he could barely believe someone was offering to have sex with him in public. This time last year, El was already _bored_ with the list of people offering to do this. “Bambi can go first,” Eliot agreed. If _he_ went first, he might not even be able to stand up by the time Q moves on to her.

“Okay,” Quentin said, taking a deep breath. Eliot guessed he must’ve figured he only had a little bit of time left, because he watched Q turn back around to face Margo so he could kiss her again.

This time, he was being really gentle with her. Maybe it’s the fact that she was letting Q set the tone, since this was his idea. She seemed intrigued by the whole concept of this happening and decided to hang back and see how it would play out.

Eliot lifted his big hands to give Quentin a shoulder massage while he warmed Margo up. He tried not to think too much about the implications of Q wanting both of them tonight, because if he let himself wander too long down that path, he’d end up considering the possibility that Quentin was only interested in him so he could get lucky with Margo. Wouldn’t be the first time and, _oops._ There it was.

When he had emerged from the storm clouds in his head, El cast another glance up at the clock and saw that they had just about reached 2AM. And in the span of an instant, the red banners hanging up by the ceiling turned green.

The people around them didn’t waste any time; clothes were haphazardly tossed onto the dance floor and Eliot could feel the magic in the air shifting. With one final squeeze of Quentin’s shoulders, he leaned in and said, “You’re good, Q. When you’re ready.” before he laid a kiss onto the top of his head.

Margo broke the kiss, then reached down for the hem of her dress. She lifted it slowly, revealing to Quentin that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

Right away, Eliot made himself useful and moved behind Margo so she could lean up against his tall frame. Plus, this way he could see Q’s face.

Quentin got down on the floor and nestled himself between her legs, eyeing her curiously and wrapping his sturdy hands around the backs of her thighs. And then he nosed right in there between her folds and let his tongue get to work.

Margo reached back and gripped onto Eliot’s forearm so she could lean against him, tensing up at first while she waited to see what the guy could do. With El supporting her, she slowly managed to relax.

From what Eliot could tell, it looked like Quentin at least somewhat knew what he was doing down there. He had barely come up for a breath since he started and he seemed to be enjoying himself. There was no hesitation, no worry lines on his forehead. El was pretty damn curious about what was happening, to be honest.

“How’s that feel, Bambi?” Eliot asked softly because he needed to know, petting her hair as he held her up.

“Q knows what he’s doing,” she said, muffled as she bit down on her lip. “Why didn’t you tell me he was this great with his mouth?” Her other hand moved to the back of Quentin’s head. El caught Quentin smiling in response to that before he went in a little deeper, blocking Eliot’s view.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily what he was expecting her to say. So far, El had mostly taken the lead in the orgasm department with Quentin and he was okay with that. But if Q’s technique surprised Bambi, High Queen of getting people to go down on her, it had to be good. “I... didn’t actually know,” he reasoned.

“If he keeps this up, you’re gonna find out real soon,” she warned, then followed it with a quick gasp. Right away, she let Q know to keep at that same spot and motion; that he was doing so well. Apparently, he also knew how to take direction because she started letting out desperate little moans. And Margo didn’t fake _anything_ when she was chasing her own pleasure.

Eliot could tell that she was getting close. He always could. Margo started tightening her fist in Quentin’s hair and arching her back. And when she came, Eliot held her in his arms, making sure that she was safe and secure through every second of it.


	7. Seeing Stars

For a few moments, they all caught their breath. The bass-heavy music and the sounds of pleasure around them drowned out everything else. El watched intently as Quentin stood up to stretch his legs and for a moment, the guy looked a little dazed. His chin was dripping wet, and once he came out of his trance enough to notice that, he lifted his wrist to wipe it away.

“Wait,” Eliot said, capturing Q’s attention. He swallowed as he suddenly realized that he’d moved so far beyond any hesitations he’d been feeling earlier. “Kiss me?” he asked.

If he hadn’t been so desperately horny and overwhelmed with affection for the boy who had just taken such good care of his Bambi, Eliot might have missed the brief flash of joy in Quentin’s eyes. A split second later, Q was rushing forward to close the gap and press his mouth against Eliot’s.

It was admittedly a brief one; Quentin’s mouth was slippery and they couldn’t really get things to stick, so Q pulled away with a sweetly confident laugh.

Margo took the opportunity to reach up and clean Quentin’s face from where she stood between them, her height putting her below them both. Then, she leaned in and pressed a kiss onto Q’s clean cheek. “You did good. I’m gonna leave you boys to it though,” she said, extracting herself from her current position and giving Eliot a pat on the shoulder.

“G’night, Bambi,” El said, refusing to take his eyes off of Quentin as she headed off to find her next form of entertainment.

Q was squirming again; maybe because of the way Eliot was gazing at him or maybe because they were about to cross into new territory yet again. And that tiny hint of a smile that El couldn’t get enough of sat right there, in the corner of his mouth.

Eliot’s heart was beating so fast, but he wouldn’t let himself lose his nerve. Instead, he reached down and took Quentin’s hand. “Come here,” he said, then he took off running with Q in tow.

They made their way onto the outdoor half of the nightclub, feeling the fresh night air on their faces as they passed though the doors. Eliot, who had practically memorized the floor plan of every club on the property, brought Quentin over to a little seating area on the edge of the balcony where a trendy, oversized armchair happened to be empty.

The two of them weren’t alone by any means, but they could certainly breathe out here if they settled in this spot for a little while. With that, El sat himself down and gave Quentin’s hand a little tug that, when paired with a raised eyebrow, invited him to climb on. He wanted to kiss the shit out of this boy.

Luckily, Eliot didn’t need to do much coaxing. Quentin didn’t waste a second and hopped right on, wedging his knees in the soft spot between the arms of the chair and the outside of Eliot’s thighs. Eliot grabbed hold of the collar of Q’s shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him hard and breathing in his air.

He loved the way Quentin immediately crowded into his space and made a home for himself there. Q was practically squirming in his lap at first, eventually letting more of his weight rest down onto Eliot’s chest. El could feel Q’s heart beating faster, could feel his erection rubbing against him from inside his clothes.

When they pulled apart to catch their breath and just look at each other for a moment, Eliot was absolutely blown away by the beauty of the man in his lap. There was this glimmer in his eye, like he knew _exactly_ what the close contact was doing to Eliot. Really, it wasn’t a secret. Quentin was sitting right against El’s raging hard-on.

“What you did in there,” Eliot gasped out, still breathing heavily. “That was incredible, Q.”

Now _there’s_ the blush he’d come to expect from this adorable guy, coming back in full force. Quentin let out a little laugh and said, “I do my best,” as his eyes darted all over El’s face.

Eliot, who was just completely smitten right now, wrapped his giant hand from Q’s gloriously tinted cheek to the back of his head and pulled him back in for more kisses.

They made out for an honestly unprecedented amount of time considering that Quentin had offered a public blowjob. To be honest, they’d built up momentum and it seemed like neither of them really wanted to stop. Their foreheads rested together as they tasted each other, gripping onto whatever they could reach.

When Quentin finally pulled away again, panting, he looked right into Eliot’s eyes and brushed his messy curls away from his face. “Can I undress you?” he asked El, just under his breath, in this irresistible way that toed the line between nervous and so smooth. _God, how was he even a person?_

“Please, yes; I don’t care who sees,” Eliot said, desperate and excited to get Quentin’s hands and mouth all over him. He reluctantly let go of the back of Q’s neck where his arms had landed and rested them on the chair, watching and waiting as his heart was practically beating out of his chest. He wasn’t going to help at _all_ and it was going to be excellent.

Q started right away on the buttons of his vest and shirt. They were tricky; Eliot would be the first to admit that removing his meticulously chosen layers took time, but Quentin seemed more than up for the challenge. And once the last one was undone, he smoothed his hands down the middle, revealing Eliot’s pale skin and a dark smattering of chest hair.

He left the top layers open, not bothering to pull them off of Eliot’s arms before he wiggled down off of him and stood on the ground where he could reach El’s belt. When that was gone, he unzipped El’s fly carefully and pulled off his pants and underwear in one big swipe. At least, he tugged on them until they got stuck around his shoes.

Clearly deciding not to bother with the tangle of fabric, leather, and feet on the balcony floor, Quentin carefully stepped over the pile then got down on his knees so he could nestle himself between Eliot’s long, bare legs. At first, he kept running his hands over the insides of Eliot’s pale thighs while he stared at the long, hard dick standing up right in front of him.

“See anything you like?” El asked, unable to resist. This, right here, was one of his fantasies coming true and it wouldn’t be the same without at least a little teasing.

And just as expected, Quentin practically squirmed in response. “You’re just... unfair,” he pouted, trying not to smile. The guy still couldn’t take his eyes off of Eliot’s cock and - was he drooling? Eliot absolutely watched him lick one tiny wet droplet off of his bottom lip and it drove him up the wall.

Then, it occurred to El that Quentin was still just sitting between his legs, rubbing Eliot’s thigh absentmindedly while he caught his breath. Was he _nervous?_ “You don’t have to do this if...” Eliot started, reasoning with himself that it had been at least half an hour since Quentin had said this was what he wanted to do. It was totally acceptable for him to change his mind, but the anticipation was starting to really get to El.

“I _really_ want to, I just need a minute,” Q said intently. He furrowed his brow, letting his worried brown eyes run up and down the length. Maybe the drink had worn off. Maybe Eliot just had a really freaking huge dick.

After about thirty more seconds of this, Eliot sat up and reached a hand down between his legs, giving himself two quick pulls to take the edge off. “Here, just mouth at the tip. You can keep your hand here to hold it still,” El explained casually, like this was totally not a big deal. He then let go of his cock and reached out to take Quentin’s hand, which Q gave over willingly, and wrapped it around the base.

At that, Quentin twisted his hand just a little to adjust his grip and leaned in. He did exactly as Eliot instructed, putting just the head of his penis into the front of his mouth and closing his lips around it. For a minute, Q got used to the feeling and the taste, lapping lightly at him with his tongue. He was oddly playful about it, making Eliot feel really good whether he was fully trying to or not. Then, after experimentally sinking down just a little further, he fully committed to the action and relaxed into it.

“Yeah, that’s it Q,” Eliot encouraged him. He worked to resist the urge to close his eyes and lean back into the cushion behind his head because _he was going to watch this, goddamnit._ Luckily he was successful or else he might’ve missed the happy little wiggle Q gave in response to El’s praise.

From there, it was all warm, wet suction and soft, firm strokes. Quentin did what Eliot asked and kept it pretty shallow, but every motion still felt incredible. That _mouth._

Q was careful and gentle and thoughtful about the entire thing, which honestly took Eliot by surprise. He was expecting more stops and starts as Quentin got acclimated, or even a few more hesitant sputters. But this... this was the most excruciatingly heartfelt blowjob El had ever received, hands down.

After a little while, El couldn’t help himself and he reached down to glide his fingers through Q’s hair. “This okay, baby?” he breathed out, making sure. This was still so new for them; even though he was totally aware that this was something Quentin liked, he wanted to make sure they were both on the same page.

Quentin pulled off for a second to take a breath and relax his jaw, giving Eliot a frantic nod. “Yeah, always, El,” he said before he gave the very tip of Eliot’s cock a tiny closed-mouth kiss, smearing a drop of precome onto his lips. God, El was glad he decided to watch this because it was positively filthy. He rubbed the pads of his fingers against Quentin’s scalp and waited to see what he would do next.

Of course, Q licked the salty substance off of his lips. He seemed to be pleased with the taste, because the next thing El know, Q was swirling his tongue around for more and then popped his whole mouth back on there. He gave a strong suck without much warning, pulling up at the base with a few long strokes of his wonderfully strong hands at just the right timing, and then Eliot was coming in Quentin’s mouth.

“Oh fuck, Q, _Jesus,_ ” Eliot finally collapsed back into the chair, taken aback by how quickly that one crept up on him. Usually, he could keep his composure far enough in to warn a fellow but this was Quentin. Eager, pliant, sweet Q who was jittery and a good listener and a quick study, apparently. Even after an entire day of this, Eliot was overwhelmingly affected by him.

When he opened his eyes because he couldn’t go one more second without checking in on his friend, Eliot found Quentin making a kind of confused but still turned on face and it suddenly occurred to him exactly what was going on.

“You can spit if you need to. I won’t be offended,” El said, still all sensitive and reeling from what had just happened. He leaned back and closed his eyes again, kind of in disbelief that this was his life now, that the one person he had wanted so badly since the start of term was in the process of finding an inconspicuous location where he could clear Eliot’s jizz from his mouth.

But before El knew it, a small, solid weight was crawling back on top of him and he opened his eyes to find Quentin clinging to him in the oversized chair. El wrapped his arms around the boy, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Thank you, for that,” Eliot whispered against his ear.

“Was it okay?” Q mumbled into the couch cushion where he had buried his face.

El let out a quiet laugh. “Everything you do feels good, baby,” he cooed. That wasn’t giving away too much. It had nothing to do with the fact that Eliot was so far gone that even the slightest idea of Quentin touching him made him horny.

He could feel Q physically relax at that sentiment, like Quentin had wanted so badly to make it good for him. Eliot was practically bursting with warm fuzzies and he could barely take it. Looking up at the night sky from his very comfy spot, he couldn’t even tell if what he was seeing were real stars or the residual effects of his orgasm.

“Can I reciprocate? What are you in the mood for, Coldwater?” Eliot asked as he gradually came down from the high. He traced circles on Quentin’s clothed back with his fingertips.

With a little groan, Quentin very quietly asked, “Can I be... really candid and kind of gross with you right now?”

Eliot gasped with utter glee, his devilish grin from earlier returning to his face. “Absolutely,” he said, not even bothering to suppress his enthusiasm for the undoubtedly rare moment that they were sharing right now. 

Then, Q took a deep breath and admitted, “After all of that, I kind of just need to stick my dick into something.”

* * *

And that is how Quentin Coldwater ended up fucking Eliot Waugh on a beach on the island of Ibiza.

A completely delighted Eliot had responded to the request by shedding and abandoning his pants, underwear, socks, and shoes in a pile by that chair and dragging a highly embarrassed Q down to the nearest unoccupied beach cabana. El’s open shirt and vest eventually made it off as well, fluttering in the breeze on a nearby railing where he had draped them.

Eliot had always prided himself on his ability to be flexible with his preferences, especially when a particularly good time was on the line. This situation more than qualified.

“Are you sure about this?” Quentin asked for approximately the millionth time as Eliot reapplied the cleaning and protection spells to both of them. There was a lovely nighttime breeze coming off of the water and the air tasted like salt. 

Already getting on his hands and knees on the thick layers of bedding that covered the cabana floor, Eliot was pretty sold on this exact thing happening. “You do not in any way need to feel guilty about wanting this. I already told you; I am enthusiastically consenting to you fucking my brains out right now,” El said, more assertively than he’d ever said anything in his entire life.

So Quentin got down behind him, rubbed Eliot’s bare back, and pressed his finger slowly inside to get El warmed up. The curious, testing nature of the motions were driving Eliot absolutely up the wall, but he patiently waited and let Q figure it out. Given his position, El couldn’t see much of what was happening, but he hoped that Quentin was getting a _really_ good look at the way his knuckles sunk inside of Eliot one at a time.

It didn’t take long for his hole to loosen up and welcome the gentle intrusions; Eliot was incredibly worked up and he _had_ joined that orgy earlier in the trip after all. So when Quentin was ready, he unzipped his pants, lined himself up, and pushed his erection inside with a desperate, surprised moan.

* * *

When they were done, the pair of them made their way back to the hotel. They hadn’t seen a clock in hours, but Eliot, who didn’t even bother to dress himself for the walk over, assumed that they were getting close to sunrise. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d pulled an all-nighter at Encanto, but the fact that he’d been with Q for nearly twenty-four hours straight made it feel like one for the record books.

They managed to get a few hours of sleep, tucked together under the covers of Eliot’s big hotel bed. And when El woke up the next day, he found Quentin already awake, holding Eliot’s hand and tracing circles on the back of it with his fingers.

“Hey,” Eliot croaked in his tired morning voice, not wanting to spook him.

Q looked up then, letting their eyes meet from across the bed. His face softened into that perfect closed-mouth smile, the one with the tiny curve on each end and those kissable dimples. “Hey yourself,” Quentin said back. He started to let go of El’s hand, in case he needed it back, but Eliot moved it closer to him to indicate that he could keep it for as long as he wanted. Q’s grip on it tightened.

“So... yesterday was good,” Eliot commented. He carefully eyed Quentin to gauge whether he should push for more today.

Right away, Quentin gave a nod. That’s it, though. Guess if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

With his other hand, El reached over and brushed Quentin’s hair out of his face. He had such soft, shiny hair. “Do I get to have the pleasure of your company again today, or would you rather switch it up?” Eliot just came right out and asked it, simple as that.

“There’s um, I’m sure there are places I haven’t seen here yet. Could you uh, show me around?” Q asked quietly, still absent-mindedly playing with Eliot’s hand. When the tips of his fingers brushed against his palm, El’s whole arm lit up with pleasant tingles.

Eliot smiled. “Feeling more adventurous?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Another nod from Quentin. “Okay. I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve,” El said.

For now, Eliot didn’t want to admit that he did need his hand back if they were going to get up, so they stayed in bed a while longer.

* * *

Quentin was absolutely thrilled when he saw that there was a clean bundle outside their hotel room door. It was filled with the clothes and shoes they’d left around the resort the day before, expertly laundered, and ready to be worn again. “Just like magic,” he had said. It was of course, actual magic, but El wasn’t going to split hairs over it.

For the morning, Eliot chose a particular pool because of its proximity to a breakfast buffet. It was marked as a Green zone, so he hadn’t taken Quentin there yet, but he figured it was worth a try. They could always relocate after having something to eat, and given how quickly Q walked over and filled up his plate, it seemed like they’d be staying for at least a little while. Plus, after how often Q was tempted to break the rules, El figured that it would just be easier to go where everything was allowed, with consent.

The food at Encanto Oculto was as good as you’d expect; when Magicians are in charge, there was really no limit to their resources and the menu was not something they’d been willing to skimp on. It also had the benefit of always being the exact right temperature and refilling immediately when the containers were nearly empty.

After they made their way through the buffet, the pair found seats in the shade by the pool and ate breakfast, complete with mimosas. Quentin was clearly hungry; he’d really worked up an appetite the night before and they had been too tired to hunt down something to eat in the middle of the night.

“So how’d you get invited to this thing initially?” Quentin asked, then scarfed down a piece of toast.

With a nostalgic sigh, Eliot looked off into the pool where a bunch of folks were already naked and having what looked like a great time. “This cute upperclassman attended one of the first parties Margo and I threw together. He liked it so much, he invited us to the festival that semester break on a whim. Pretty much bailed on us as soon as we got here but we only needed him to get in the door,” El shrugged.

“Oh,” Q responded, sounding surprised. Eliot wasn’t really sure what kind of answer he was expecting; maybe that a fiery fling had swept El off for a week of romance.

“Our first trip, we just kind of jumped into the deep end. Took on whatever fell into our laps. Not the smoothest choice, but hey. This is quite the place to figure out what you like, if only by eliminating what you don’t,” Eliot continued. “The second time, I had a much better approach. Quality over quantity. It involved avoiding some acquaintances from the previous year hoping for a sequel, but I handled it fine.”

With an interested nod, Quentin took a sip of his mimosa. “What do you like most about this place?” Q asked.

Eliot, who couldn’t quite figure out if Quentin had an angle with all of these questions, inhaled deeply. “Honestly it’s just nice to go to a place where nobody cares who you are or where you came from. Every interaction with someone new is just about them wanting who you are in that exact moment and there’s no baggage or expectation,” he said.

The guy looked at him with this thoughtful, kind of sad glance. Like Q knew, somehow, that there was pain behind what El had just told him. But he didn’t push, didn’t ask. He just sat a few inches away, looking cute with his hair tied back in a bun and caring about whatever Eliot had to say.

“When I started undergrad in New York, I was... not like this. I was desperate to get away from where I grew up and start over somewhere new,” Eliot said, finding himself wanting to open up. He _wanted_ Quentin to know him. “But it took time to figure out who I wanted to be, once I finally got to a place where I could do that. People still remembered that scared, starry-eyed boy who just wanted people to _like_ him. Coming to Brakebills with everything fully figured out meant that for once, _I_ determined how people saw me, from start to finish.”

With a kind smile, Quentin carefully read Eliot’s face. “I honestly don’t know if I could picture you any other way,” he said.

“And I’d rather you didn’t,” El said matter-of-factly before returning to his original point. “But here, people wouldn’t even have an opportunity to wonder who I was before. No small talk, no need to fabricate grand stories about my fictional past. Just mouths and hands and bodies and sunshine and booze and goodbyes.”

They ate together for a few minutes after that, feeling oddly comfortable in the silence. Though eventually, Eliot began to wonder whether he’d said something wrong, because Quentin stopped asking questions.

“So what’s your impression of Encanto so far?” Eliot asked him, happy to take the focus off of himself after divulging probably more about his internal thoughts than he should have.

Giving it a thought for a few seconds while he swallowed his food, Quentin settled on something Eliot probably could have guessed. “I don’t think I would have ever come here on my own, but being here with you and Margo has been really fun?” he said, ending the sentence on an upturn like it was a question. “The relative anonymity thing just kind of makes me more nervous, to be honest.”

Eliot smirked. “What, like you have guilt about not disclosing every detail of your life to attractive strangers who want to make out with you?” he asked.

“Like... I’d rather make a new emotional connection or have a meaningful conversation and it’s hard to do that when most people here are hiding or _pretending_ on some level. Does that... does that make any sense?” Quentin explained.

That one stopped Eliot in his tracks for a moment. While Q was probably not talking about him in particular with his last comment, it still hit him someplace below his ribs. But he rolled past it, trying not to let it shake him. “It does. Granted, this may not be the ideal location for that kind of interaction,” El quipped.

“I know,” Quentin said, fumbling around for something in his head. “But um, oh! That first day by the pool, someone recognized the book I was reading and wanted to talk about it.”

“Did they now,” El replied, trying to sound bored even though he could never actually be bored of anything Quentin talked about. Even when he had no clue what Q was saying, the heartfelt delivery of the sentiment was enough to keep Eliot more than entertained.

“I thought it was nice!” Q defended himself, already halfway through a laugh so Eliot could tell that he was in a mood to be teased.

With another grin, Eliot suggested, “You should start the very first Encanto Oculto book club.”

“Maybe I will,” Quentin said just before he tossed a grape at El’s chest.

“What was that?!” El asked in the general direction of the grape as it bounced onto the ground between them.

Puffing up his chest, Q said, “I threw a grape at you.” He then burst out into for sure one of the biggest smiles Eliot had ever seen him make. Seriously, it was _blinding._

“How _dare_ you,” Eliot flirted back as he placed his palm on his own chest, pretending to be offended. At that, Quentin held up his hands in mock surrender and El was reminded yet again how ridiculously charmed he was by this man.

By now, they were both basically finished with their meals and Eliot wasn’t quite sure where to direct them next. Q, however, pulled his t-shirt over his head as soon as his plate was clean, suddenly wanting to either be naked or go swimming.

When Quentin hopped up from his seated position, making his choice known, Eliot stood up and reached out to grab his arm before the guy could dive in. “Hold on, speedy. You are going to get some serious stomach cramps if you don’t wait a few minutes,” El laughed.

For a moment, Quentin made an unimpressed pout before it broke into a playful smile. “Well you’d better keep me occupied then,” he said, allowing Eliot to pull his arm back away from the pool.

Eliot’s breath caught. “That, I can do,” El nearly growled, letting the phrase sit low in his throat. It barely took any effort at all for him to pull Quentin closer and taste his lips.

Q had the sweetest mouth and whenever Eliot kissed it, Quentin always opened up like a flower. He could kiss this boy forever; brushing his tongue up against his, feeling his breath so close, pressing up against his warm body.

Before long, Eliot felt Quentin tugging his hand down to the waistband of Q’s swim trunks. _Oh, right._ They’d just gone straight to the Green zone today; they could do whatever the fuck they wanted to each other here. So El took Quentin’s lead and slipped his fingers down the front of Q’s bathing suit where he cupped the still mostly soft knob of flesh between Quentin’s strong, furry legs.

Q let go of Eliot’s wrist once it had successfully reached the intended destination and brought his square hand up to grip onto the back of El’s neck. Quentin hadn’t stopped kissing him for a second, absolutely ravenous for contact and closeness. It made Eliot’s heart pound mercilessly if he thought about it for too long.

And _God,_ the way that perfect little cock twitched and swelled up under El’s touch was so much to handle. The fact that Quentin had wanted his hand there, wanted him to feel the way he hardened when they did this, made Eliot start to get hard too.

On top of all of that, they were standing by a pool in the daylight, surrounded by people. While it wasn’t crowded yet, they were certainly where others could see them. Eliot tried to remain mindful of that and let Quentin set the pace, but his brain was slowly becoming overwhelmed by the good feelings coursing through him as this beautiful man let him know just how much he wanted to be touched and kissed.

Q practically manhandled Eliot over to an empty couch-like piece of patio furniture, never letting him get far enough away to stop the kissing nor the frantic hand job inside his shorts. And once they clumsily toppled onto the cushions, Quentin pulled Eliot in even closer.

Now that they’d settled in somewhere comfortable, Eliot reached his free arm around Q’s shoulders and held him close as he stroked that wonderful, hard dick. It was warm against his palm and he took a tiny peek at it below the waistband of Quentin’s bathing suit. Still so _cute._ Hiding in there, just for him.

“El, that... _oh._ Feels _good,_ ” Quentin moaned and squeaked quietly into his ear before sinking a shallow, gentle bite into Eliot’s earlobe. He sounded like he was in total disbelief of his own pleasure, like he’d already forgotten how it felt to be touched like this, like it was better than he remembered. El could feel Q’s heart racing and his heavy breathing and soft moans were like music.

“That’s it, baby,” Eliot said, encouraging him as he brushed a thumb experimentally across the tip. Wet already, like clockwork. He gave Quentin a few more skillful pumps, twisting his wrist just slightly each time.

As he got more and more riled up, Q started running his hands up Eliot’s arms and over his chest. El was still dressed, but his lightweight button-up had never been fully buttoned so Quentin could get his fingers into Eliot’s short, curly chest hair. His touches were frantic and all over the place, like he just needed something to do with his hands as El jerked him off.

Eliot found himself carefully studying Q’s face as be brought him closer and closer to the edge. The boy had this tiny crease between his eyebrows and the most earnest expression. He was starting to sweat and his hair was falling into a sleek curtain between them. “Look at you. You’re _lovely._ Being so brave for me out here, showing me what you want,” El fussed over him, then leaned closer and pressed another kiss to Quentin’s slightly open mouth.

“ _Eliot,_ I’m...” Q started to say before a look of surprise took over his face and then he was coming, hard, into Eliot’s big hand.

Laying kisses all over Quentin’s hair and cheeks, El stroked Q’s cock throughout his orgasm. And when Quentin was done, slumping into Eliot’s chest and pushing him into the cushions, El carefully made sure that Q was fully covered and slipped his hand back out of his shorts.

For a brief moment, Eliot considered floating the idea of Quentin licking the come off of his fingers, but he decided that maybe that was a little much for friend sex in public. So instead, he worked through a quick little one-handed washing tut that rendered both his hand and Q’s bathing suit clean and dry in a matter of seconds.

They cuddled there for a little while, allowing them both to recover. But before long, Quentin was reaching for the waistband of Eliot’s tight little swim shorts.

“Do you want me to try and keep everything inside here, or are you okay with... uh...” Q started, but then his hand unexpectedly made contact with the flushed pink tip of El’s penis, which was hard and already poking two inches out of their stretchy fabric enclosure.

Eliot let out a little laugh. “You can take him out. I’m not shy,” he assured Q from the spot where he was lounging back into the pillows, giving Quentin’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Good. Okay,” Quentin breathed out a sigh of relief as he looked down at what he was doing. After hesitating for a second or two, Q took the bathing suit totally off, sliding it down Eliot’s long legs and unhooking it from his bare feet so he could drop it onto the ground.

When Quentin climbed back up, he got cozy against El’s side and laid his head down on his shoulder. Then, he reached back down and wrapped his hand around Eliot’s big dick.

This time, everything was so much slower. Q’s motions were thoughtful and intentional and Eliot was in heaven, grinning up a storm. And before he could get stuck like last time, Quentin poked his nose up against El’s ear and whispered, “Show me how you like to be touched?” in the sweetest voice.

For a minute, Eliot considered stroking Q’s ego because a little confidence here would go a long way, but then Quentin spoke up again, continuing the thought. “I wanna learn how to make it good for you, get it just right. Want to _know_ you, El, _please,_ ” he squeaked, like he could barely handle getting the words out but the uncontrollable need propelled him forward, right past his nervousness.

_Holy shit._

“Fuck,” Eliot spat out as his mind was absolutely reeling. There was no fucking way he could say no to that.

So Eliot reached down and grabbed hold of Quentin’s hand, finding just the right grip and angle and guiding him into a speed and a rhythm he liked. “There. And here, sometimes you can just-”El started to say, then he punctuated the sentence by helping Q ghost his thumb so lightly around the head in small circles. His cock lurched at that - _God, he was so sensitive there_ \- then another big pull from the base up to the tip, their hands moving together. Rougher than Quentin was going initially.

“And every once in a while, I like it if you -” then he moved Q’s hand down to his balls and guided him to cup them with a gentle squeeze before he started up again with the firm strokes. “That’ll get me there if you keep moving. It - it shouldn’t take too long,” Eliot said, keeping his hand soft against the back of Quentin’s so he could feel that Q was mostly in control of his motions again. Then, he let go, bracing his hand on the cushion beside him so he could lean back and enjoy.

His breath was already starting to speed up as he watched Quentin follow his instructions with this beautifully focused look on his face.

Just as he was thinking that he probably wouldn’t last much longer, Eliot felt Q move in close to his ear again and heard him say, “I can’t believe I get to do this for you,” and then he came with a laugh, giddy and relieved and boneless.

Quentin followed up with his own cleaning spell, then he laid back down to laze about in the sun with a half naked and blissed-out Eliot.

“You learn fast,” El commented when he finally came back down from whatever glorious place he’d floated off to.

Q gave him a sweet little shrug.

They mostly lounged there for the next hour, only stopping to mutter thoughts and random observations at each other. Eliot had just entertained the thought that he could lay here all day in this guy’s arms when someone walked over to their bubble and spoke up.

“Sorry to interrupt, but my group thinks you’re both hot and we wanted to invite you to our tent if you’re interested,” new guy said. He was cute, with an endearingly average-looking body, all soft edges and freckles.

Right away, Eliot cast a glance back at Quentin to gauge his interest level, subtly raising an eyebrow. It was a long shot; he knew that, but El didn’t want to speak for him just in case.

When Quentin gave what was definitely a nod, Eliot was floored and quite frankly, beginning to question reality. Then, Q turned away to look the man right in the eye and said the two words Eliot wasn’t expecting to hear today or even this week.

“We’re in.”


	8. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to hoko_onchi for getting me un-stuck and helping me edit part of this chapter!

When they arrived at the tent, the party had already started; there were five or six other people there, already undressed and getting acquainted. Eliot was immediately greeted by a rush ofsex magic that had been cast in the space and he breathed it in gratefully. Everything about the added boost calmed him, from the comforting tingle under his skin to the indescribable smell helped him to calm his racing thoughts. The spells shifted his mind just slightly off of his panic about bringing Quentin into a space like this and allowed him to focus more on the way he knew his body was about to feel.

El was quick to remove his single item of clothing that remained, folding his shirt and placing it near the entrance with his already discarded bathing suit. He took his time with it because quite honestly, he needed to concentrate on a task that _wasn’t_ worrying about Quentin.

Of course, the latter concern wasn’t far behind because just before he headed into the action, Eliot leaned in close to Q’s ear and whispered, “If you get uncomfortable at any point, it’s okay to leave. We can go anytime.” As soon as his skin brushed against Quentin’s, he began feeling another effect of the spells in this space; they had unmistakably increased his sensitivity. He shivered in response and was almost embarrassed by how that tiny touch affected him.

And then, before he could get any further into his speech, Quentin dropped his swim trunks onto the floor and leaned up towards Eliot’s face. El was once again taken aback by how beautiful he was, with his chiseled jaw and light scruff. The look in his dark eyes made Eliot’s breath catch in his throat. Q stopped a breath away from kissing him, spoke, “I’m fine,” into Eliot’s mouth, then surged up to press his lips against El’s.

They were kissing again, hard, and then Q was pulling Eliot closer to the group. _Quentin._ His friend Quentin, was dragging him into a pile of naked strangers. _This was a lot._

For a while, Eliot lost himself to the feeling of being surrounded by bodies, of bumping into thighs and letting his fingers lightly graze arms that definitely didn’t belong to him or Quentin. He closed his eyes, soaking in the relief that Q was still paying attention to him, even now. He felt Quentin’s hands grab onto his neck and pull him forward as he laid back onto the soft sheets on the sandy floor. Eliot crawled on top of him easily, opening his eyes to look down at the man who had conjured that sexy confidence out of mid air again.

It easily could’ve been just the two of them, as far as Eliot was concerned, but then it wasn’t. As he leaned down to kiss Quentin’s lips, someone started stroking El’s back with soft, unfamiliar hands. He mostly chose to ignore this, though it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling. It merely added to the intensity of the various sensations coursing through him.

Then, the guy who had originally invited them to the tent rolled over on the ground to kiss Quentin’s shoulder. Eliot pulled back and watched as Q turned his head to greet him with a small smile that seemed genuine enough. To give them some space, Eliot eased up, walking his arms back so he could lick at one of Quentin’s nipples. Then, he peered upward to find that Q was kissing Freckles, softly at first. El wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that, though it was probably less awkward than showing up to an orgy and only touching your date.

Is that what Quentin was? His _date?_ Eliot tried not to question why Q would want to join the tent; he didn’t need to know whether Quentin was trying to be adventurous or to impress Eliot. If Q was starting to get bored of just being with El, it was understandable. Quentin totally had the right to want attention from other people or to get the full Encanto Oculto experience. They were hardly exclusive; they weren’t even _together,_ so this shouldn’t have been a surprise.

To distract himself from his quickly spiraling thoughts, Eliot placed a line of kisses and gentle bites down Quentin’s body and eventually settled between his legs. He smoothed one of his big hands along one of Quentin’s delightfully hairy thighs, hoping Q would recognize his touch and know it was him, then sunk his full attention into Quentin’s bottom half. He was more than happy to give Q’s sensitive places some love, rubbing the pads of his fingers in gentle circles over his puckered hole as he licked and teased that sweet little dick with his mouth.

When Eliot looked up for a minute to catch his breath, he saw that Q now had _two_ people hovering over his upper half. Freckles had moved down to Quentin’s nipples and someone new was kissing him, blocking El’s view of Quentin’s face with a head of curly blonde hair. For a moment, the flickers of jealousy subsided. _Good for him. Q deserves this._

So Eliot conjured up a bit of lube and used it to continue his work on Quentin’s opening, giving him the same treatment he had last time. He was pleased at the way the little muscle let him in almost right away, and then Q was moaning and opening his legs and lifting his pelvis up off the floor, telling Eliot that this is exactly what he wanted and giving him a _much_ better view.

“That’s it, Q. God, look at you. You’re so fucking hot like this,” Eliot spoke right to the familiar cock that bobbed just inches away from his face. It didn’t matter that they were surrounded by strangers; he wanted Quentin to know that he was doing well, to feel confident and handsome and desirable in the way that El knew he was. Even if Quentin was too distracted to hear him, he couldn’t stop himself from saying those things.

Sitting back on his heels, Eliot directed all of his focus into massaging one, then two of his fingers into Q’s opening. He enjoyed knowing how much Quentin had loved this last time and if he had to share him with the people around them, at least he could give him this.

Then, another person was pressing up against Eliot’s side. He looked over and found a remarkably attractive human, someone who he definitely would have hooked up with before this alternate reality where Quentin actually wanted to keep fucking him.

For a brief moment, Eliot mentally listed out the pros and cons of engaging with someone else. The truth of the matter was that the only person he really wanted to touch right now was Quentin, but that wasn’t the only point worth considering. He didn’t want to seem too clingy or attached to Q, who was apparently doing just fine with the idea of multiple partners at once. He didn’t want Quentin to feel weird about accepting affection from more people if he were to open his eyes and find Eliot refusing contact from everyone but him. And this guy was pretty hot.

El made the decision to lean over and kiss the stranger as he kept his fingers moving inside Quentin. Thirty seconds later, there was a hand reaching around Eliot’s front and stroking his dick where it bumped against his belly.

Things got a little overwhelming from there, so Eliot allowed himself to relax against the sensations and the sounds. He never once stilled his practiced motions in Q’s ass, but he definitely felt himself losing his grip on his carefully poised exterior.

And then he felt his fingers slip out; Quentin was sitting up. El opened his eyes and pulled his mouth away from the person wrapped around the left side of his body so he could check in with Q. The people around Quentin didn’t seem to be phased by the change at all and they merely started kissing each other instead.

Q’s mood had clearly shifted, but before Eliot could decipher the look on his face, Quentin was crawling over to El and whispering in his ear. “Hey, um... you should stay. But I’m, just... I’m gonna go,” Q said before he scrambled to his feet and left the tent, grabbing his swim trunks on his way out.

_Fuck._

* * *

Of course, as soon as Eliot had a second to process what had happened, he was up and out of that tent, searching the beach for Quentin. He pulled his clothes back on in a hurry, feeling extra grateful that his past self had thought to carry his swimsuit from the pool to the beach. If Q was panicking, he might not react well to seeing a naked giant of a man chasing him.

Every worst case scenario ran through El’s head as he scanned his surroundings for that familiar floppy hair. He hoped that Q was alright, that he wasn’t hurt or scared or regretting the entire week.

Before he could get too far into his elaborate worry-induced thoughts, Eliot found Quentin huddled against a palm tree in an area away from most of the festival goers. Q must have gone back to the pool to retrieve his discarded t-shirt from earlier because he was wearing it inside out with the seams exposed. He was slouching so intensely that his shoulders had nearly reached his ears and all Eliot wanted to do was swoop in and wrap his arms around him. Of course, he wouldn’t do that. He still had no idea what had set Q off in the tent and he was determined to avoid doing any further harm to someone he cared about immensely.

El slowly walked over, giving Quentin plenty of time to notice him and leave, and then sat down on the warm sand next to him. “Hey. Tell me what’s going on?” Eliot asked in the most calm and gentle tone he could manage. He looked down at Q’s hands, which were loosely resting on his knees. Eliot did not reach over to touch them even though he desperately wanted to.

With that, Quentin looked up. He had that worried crease between his full eyebrows and both corners of his mouth were turned downward. “I don’t really... do I have to talk about it?” Q said, returning the gaze of his sad brown puppy dog eyes to the shoreline.

“You don’t. I was just worried about you. Wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Eliot admitted. When Q didn’t say anything back, El quite literally dug in for the long haul, pushing his bare feet into the sand beneath him and burying them there. Quentin didn’t have to share anything he wasn’t comfortable talking about, but Eliot wanted him to know that he wasn’t going anywhere.

They had managed to find a calm spot on the island; no one else was around and all they could hear was the ocean breeze and the crashing of the waves. Then, after they sat there for the world’s longest minute, Q spoke up. “I knew this would happen eventually,” he said under his breath. If it hadn’t been so quiet where they were sitting, Eliot might have missed it.

“That you’d end up leaving in the middle of an orgy?” El asked with no hint of humor, just curiosity.

Quentin let out a frustrated huff. “That I would ruin your trip. That you’d have less fun because of me,” he clarified, voice shaking. Q kept his eyes fixed to easy places; the water, the sand at his feet, his hands in front of him. Anywhere but right at El.

Right away, Eliot let out a breath of relief because that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. “Q, you’re not -”

“Just, promise me you won’t resent me for not being able to keep up? I tried, I just... I can’t,” Quentin continued.

At that, El considered what Q had said. “If you don’t want to... Q, we don’t have to have sex anymore if that’s not what you -” Eliot said, his heart breaking as he let the words out.

“Wait... no, I -” Quentin sat up, finally turning towards Eliot and looking him right in the eye. “That’s not what I meant, El.” A gust of wind blew his hair out of his face and for just a second, Eliot got a better view of the way Q’s wet brown puppy dog eyes were glistening as his eyebrows lifted up above his nose. He always looked so goddamn earnest.

Every nerve ending in Eliot’s brain was resisting against what was happening right now. He hated seeing Q so upset like this, and knowing how open Quentin was being with his emotions scared the hell out of him.

With a deep, calming breath, El opened his mouth. “What _do_ you mean, then?” he asked so gently. The last thing Eliot wanted was to hurt Q more than he already had, but El still hadn’t managed to figure out what was wrong. 

Quentin didn’t respond right away. He spent a minute searching Eliot’s face for some kind of answer, then Q’s hand moved like he wanted to reach out to El before he changed his mind at the last second. When he finally said something, it was nearly silent; like he was trying to avoid letting Eliot hear it at all.

“You have to know, on some level, how I feel about you,” Q said under his breath, and then let it hang in the air between them as he looked back down at the sand. His words sounded wet. “Why do you think I asked to come to Encanto with you?”

And there it was; the missing piece, the answer Eliot had been waiting for. Everything fell into place around them and suddenly it all made sense.

El made the decision before his tenacious sense of self-preservation could stop him.

“Q... you’re all I want,” Eliot asserted, all honesty and bravery coming out of nowhere.

Quentin looked up behind his curtain of hair with disbelieving, tear-filled eyes. “...What?” he asked, sniffling.

There was no going back now, so Eliot swallowed his pride and doubled down. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I just want you,” he clarified.

After blinking a few times, Quentin asked, “Are you being serious right now, because I really don’t know if I can take -”

At that, Eliot stayed incredibly still and looked him right in the eye. “I am being one hundred percent serious with you,” he said honestly, going against every instinct he had to hide his vulnerability. He finally wanted Q to know exactly how he was feeling, even if it meant that he was practically vibrating with fear and excitement. And if Quentin rejected him now, at least he would be equipped with the truth.

The sweetest hint of a smile appeared in the corner of Q’s mouth and Eliot let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Why didn’t you say so?” Quentin asked as his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Oh, you know me,” Eliot grinned, slipping right back into that easy charisma. “Love attention. Terrified of rejection,” he admitted with a wink.

Q still seemed confused. “But... didn’t you come here intending to sleep with a ton of people? Before I asked to tag along?”

“At first, maybe, but I like you. Other people are boring anyway,” Eliot shrugged like it was the most obvious answer.

Quentin smiled at that little admission. “I’m pretty boring,” he offered.

“You’re fucking incredible, is what you are,” Eliot got up on his knees and turned toward Quentin immediately, poised to tear down that falsehood with everything he had left in him. So as Q looked up at him with a stunned expression on his face, El continued.

“You’re _ridiculously_ good-looking and everything you do is cute, even when you’re angry. No, _especially_ when you’re angry,” Eliot asserted, believing it with every bone in his body. “And when you get all excited about books or movies or magic you... you light up. And even though you’re really hard on yourself and you deal with some incredibly tough things, out of nowhere you get this endearing confidence that I can’t even really explain and it’s just the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my _life._ You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Q.”

After all of that, Quentin was speechless, but the happy glint in his eyes told Eliot that he didn’t need to worry about honestly sharing his feelings anymore.

“Suffice it to say, I am more than okay with not joining another orgy if you wouldn’t be coming with me.” Eliot said, buttoning himself back up and returning to his previous seated position in the sand.

From there, Q crawled closer to Eliot and nudged himself into El’s space, leaning his shoulder against Eliot’s chest. He wrapped his hand around one of El’s and leaned in close so he could nuzzle his nose against Eliot’s cheek. It was the sweetest, softest gesture Q could have chosen, and Eliot would’ve let it continue longer if he hadn’t been overcome with an uncontrollable desire to kiss his boy.

So Eliot did what he knew best and slipped his hand into Quentin’s hair, cupping the back of his neck and fitting their mouths together. He tasted Q’s lips so slowly, kissing him as gently as he could. And even though they’d been doing this for days now, it felt completely different. El wasn’t trying to prove or hide anything this time; he just needed Q to feel how much he liked him. Eliot finally wanted Quentin to know how much he meant to him.

In response, he felt Q’s whole body melt against him, all warm and pliant and trusting in his arms. Quentin knew how Eliot felt now but he wasn’t running away or panicking. After a little while, it occurred to El that he never had. This entire time, Q had been telling him in his own way that he wanted to be here with _him_ and it took Eliot this long to notice. Somehow, through all of their miscommunications, they both wanted to be there for real and they finally both knew it.

* * *

After they’d been tenderly making out and holding each other for what seemed like hours, Quentin sunk back into where he was resting against Eliot’s chest to take a breather.

“Hey,” Q said, rubbing his thumb against El’s hand where their fingers had intertwined ages ago. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“I would go literally anywhere with you right now,” Eliot said as pleasant sparks lit up all along the admittedly tame places where Q was touching his skin. “What did you have in mind?”

Q shivered happily against his torso. “Could we go somewhere more private?” he asked before he buried his face in Eliot’s unbuttoned shirt. “Because I think you should probably fuck me,” Quentin mumbled into the fabric.

Once he had fully processed that sentence, Eliot snapped out of the delirious haze he had been in and sat up. “That can be arranged. I know just the place. Do you have a problem with heights?” he asked as he got up off the ground and helped Quentin to stand.

“I um, I don’t think so?” Q said, not seeming to understand exactly what he was getting himself into, but he followed Eliot anyway.

They didn’t need to go far; El brought Quentin over to a hut on the next beach over where he traced their sigil for the resort staff and was handed a card. From there, Eliot followed the instructions written on the card to a specific location in the forest nearby.

“Okay, we’re here. Just give me a second,” Eliot said as he placed the card in his pocket and let go of Quentin’s hand so he could cast a spell. After interlocking his fingers in a few effortless shapes, a ladder appeared mid-air and lowered down between them. “Go ahead, you first,” El told him with a smile, grabbing hold of the ladder to keep it steady.

Once they had both climbed to the top of the ladder, they reached a floating wooden cabana adorned with soft fabrics and wall-to-wall windows. It was just large enough to hold the king size bed that waited for them in the center of the room.

Eliot soaked up the opportunity to impress Quentin with more magic he never would have encountered outside of this resort. He loved the way that Q took in their new surroundings; his face lit up and his fingers reaching out to touch the clean white linens draped over the windows and the bed.

“Is this all ours?” Quentin asked, looking out the window at the view below them.

“For the next few hours,” El said. He closed the door, locked it carefully, and then made his way to the edge of the bed where he sat down. The soft but bouncy mattress gave just enough beneath him as he put his weight into it.

Eliot could tell the exact moment when Quentin remembered why they were hanging out in this tiny, dreamily lit cabin in the sky. Q’s eyes flickered away from the view and over to El, then a pink flush overtook his features and the corners of his lips turned just slightly upward.

“So... I think it might be my turn to admit some stuff,” Quentin said as he slowly walked over to where Eliot was sitting.

With a raise of his eyebrows, El waited patiently. He still kind of couldn’t believe this was happening, that they _liked_ each other. “Oh, is it? I wasn’t keeping track,” he joked, becoming a little bit desperate for Quentin to get close enough to touch so he could get his teeth into him. Q looked _delectable_ right now, all pink and smiley.

As soon as Q was within reach, Eliot extended one long arm and hooked his fingers under the hem of Quentin’s inside out t-shirt. He didn’t need to tug hard to reel him in because Q was clearly on his way there already, but the thought was nice.

“I’ve pretty much been completely gone for you since the moment I got to Brakebills,” Quentin said, letting El pull him closer.

A huge smile broke out on Eliot’s face as he looked up at Quentin. He didn’t even bother to hide the naked adoration; El put it completely on display.

Q took another breath and he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “And uh, you might actually be the sexiest person I’ve ever met,” Quentin said. “So I was definitely not expecting anything to come of it. Cause you know, erm, I’m me.”

Now, Quentin had finally reached the edge of the bed where Eliot was sitting, so El slid his hands under that t-shirt, smoothing his fingers over Q’s belly and grabbing hold of his hips where the dry swim trucks hung low. He didn’t want to interrupt what Quentin was saying, but El couldn’t resist touching.

Luckily, Q continued on despite becoming considerably more flustered. The tips of his ears were turning red. “And then we got here and you were... still paying attention to me, even with loads of hot people around and I thought, maybe I actually had a shot?” Quentin paused for a second to lift his arms up so Eliot could peel the soft shirt off of his body.

“I just... I wanted to say that you’re better in bed than I imagined. You’re intuitive and caring and gentle when you need to be and ravenous when you don’t and it’s the hottest fucking thing,” Q said once his head was free of the fabric, then he shivered when the air hit his bare skin.

“You imagined me and got off on it? Before all this?” El asked as he pet his hands down the front of Quentin’s body and started pulling at the waistband of his swimsuit, dropping it down to Q’s sandy bare feet.

Quentin was blushing all the way down to his chest now. “Yeah,” he squeaked, cheeks hot, giving off the vibe that he was maybe just a tiny bit embarrassed to admit that.

Never one to leave someone he liked hanging, Eliot swooped in. “I’ve thought about you too, Q,” he admitted, though he was considerably less ashamed of it.

At that, a newly undressed Quentin gathered up the confidence to climb right onto El’s lap and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to Eliot’s cheek as he straddled him, then tilted his head and whispered directly into Eliot’s ear, tickling it with his lips and his warm breath. “I’m yours, Eliot. Have been for a while. Now flip me over and fuck me like I know you want to,” Quentin growled.

That line caught Eliot completely off-guard even though they both knew where this was heading. He felt a burn of desire low in his gut and his dick twitched in response. But once he got ahold of himself and the words fully registered, El scooped Quentin up, Q’s bare ass in his big hands, and turned around so he could lay him face up onto the clean, white bed.

Eliot made up for lost time as he quickly climbed on top of Quentin and started kissing him senseless. He bit into Q’s bottom lip, dipped his tongue down into his open mouth, and swallowed down the gorgeous whimpers that started escaping from the back of Quentin’s throat.

Q always made the most wonderful noises when he felt good and Eliot was committed to doing whatever he could to draw those sounds out of him. El loved the way Quentin responded to every movement, every kiss, and every touch; he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” El said as he broke away, panting as he shed his own clothes and threw them off of the bed. He didn’t give two shits where they ended up and now that they were gone, he could grab onto Quentin’s hipbones and thrust his cock against Q’s in a long, slow drag to take the edge off.

Then, Eliot knelt down between Q’s legs and started tutting. The protection spell was quickly followed by a cleaning spell and then he conjured up some magic lube so he could start rubbing his finger in careful circles around the puckered muscles of Quentin’s hole.

“Ohh, that, mmm,” Q moaned, squirming around on the bed as he reacted to the feeling of Eliot pressing one long, slippery finger inside of him. “El, your hands are _incredible,_ ” Quentin gasped.

El couldn’t help smiling again; making Quentin feel this good was _fun._ “I got you most of the way there earlier, babe; you’re opening up so well for me already,” El let him know as he curled his finger up against Q’s prostate.

He added a second and a third finger without much fuss as Quentin adjusted; this was familiar territory for them now and he kept going until he could tell that Q was getting flat-out desperate for his dick.

This wasn’t the first time Eliot had fucked an anal virgin and he was fully aware of how big he was. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Q because he was a little overzealous about taking this step with someone he liked so much. So when he knew that he’d gotten Quentin as relaxed as he could on his fingers, El pulled them back out and crawled over to the pillows at the head of the bed.

“Come here, sweetheart. You’re ready,” Eliot cooed, sitting with his back up against the padded headboard with his legs straight in front of him as he rearranged the pillows. Quentin looked up at him from where he was laying on his back, then sat up and awaited further instructions with a sweetly confused look on his face.

He was so fucking _cute._ El reached up and pressed his palm onto Quentin’s cheek with his clean hand, barely even sparing a thought to the idea of masking the open longing on his face as he stared into those lovely brown eyes. He wanted to bottle this memory so he could keep it forever.

Then, he snapped out of it when he realized that Q was waiting for him. “Here, climb on,” he said, helping Quentin straddle his hips. “I’m gonna let you have total control to start so you don’t hurt yourself, okay? Then we can try it another way when you’re used to me,” Eliot said as he called another palmful of lube right out of the air and used it to slick up his sizable erection. No amount of experience in the bedroom seemed to be able to calm El’s nerves at the moment; he tried to be all business, focusing on logistics and on keeping Quentin comfortable and informed, but his voice was shaking.

Quentin, who had settled his knees on either side of Eliot’s body, looked up into his eyes. He was clearly also a bundle of nervous excitement. “Are you... you’re good, right?” Q checked in as he hovered over him, apparently noticing that the usual Eliot Waugh swagger was faltering.

With a little laugh, El brushed his fingers over Quentin’s furry forearms. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Coldwater?” he asked honestly. His heart was racing already, hands shaking just a little.

“...Me?” Q asked, eyes full of surprise and sweetness and hope. _God, what did Eliot do to deserve this wonderful man?_

Eliot smiled. “Yes, you. Here, give me your hand,” he said as he helped Quentin grab hold of his cock and line it up under him. “There. When you’re ready,” El coaxed him gently.

With a nod, Quentin reached up and braced his free hand on Eliot’s shoulder, then began to lower himself. “Is this um... here,” Q said as he got situated, voice giving the cutest little wobble.

El easily detected the note of nervousness in Quentin’s demeanor, and since he couldn’t have that, he took it upon himself to fix it right away. He leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on Q’s lips, then went back to where he was leaning against the headboard and said, “You’ve got this, darling. It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

Quentin gave a dimpled smile in response to the pet name, hiding it behind the strands of hair that fell down over his eyes, then went to work.

It took a few slippery seconds for Q to figure things out, but the moment when just the head of El’s dick successfully went inside, they both gasped. Quentin stopped there at first, squeezing his eyes tightly closed and letting out a breath as he adjusted to the intrusion. Then, before Eliot could open his mouth to utter any further encouragement, Q was sliding down another inch or two.

Meanwhile, Eliot was losing his goddamn mind. He had unintentionally chosen the position that forced him to sit impossibly still and focus entirely on the feelings coursing through his body, and it was overwhelming. Normally, when he topped, he liked that it gave him the ability to put his attention into a specific task, into making his partner feel incredibly good. But this? This only drew _more_ attention to the fact that he wanted to get a little rough, to lean forward so he could bite into the meat of Quentin’s shoulder, to _move._

They would get there. Eliot knew in his bones that they would. But for now, this was about Q finding the right position and pace _he_ needed to feel good.

Quentin relaxed his muscles and took another painstakingly slow inch, then removed his hand from where it had steadied Eliot cock between them and immediately brought it up to Eliot’s cheek. He stroked there with his thumb, then sunk his fingers into the mess of curls behind Eliot’s head.

“Does this feel... are you okay, El?” Q asked, sounding a little out of breath already and he was _barely_ moving.

Eliot took in a deep breath, then said, “So tight, baby. You’re... you feel amazing but if you could just move a _little_ bit?”

With a quick nod, Quentin leaned forward to put more of his weight on Eliot and circled his hips around. It didn’t result in him taking much more of El’s length, but the friction was _amazing._ A low moan broke out of El’s mouth completely out of his own control.

“That’s it, fuck. God, you’re beautiful,” Eliot said, heart absolutely racing.

With another small motion of his pelvis as he hovered just about halfway down, Quentin’s eyes rolled back. “Ohh,” he moaned. “El, can you just touch me? You can. It’s okay. I just -” and then he experimentally bucked his hips forward and then quickly back, letting Eliot’s dick move inside him again. A loud whimper fell from his perfect bow-shaped mouth.

Eliot somehow hadn’t realized that his hands were grabbing tightly onto the sheets beside him this entire time. So as soon as Q called attention to them, he reached up and slid his palms up and down Quentin’s bare back. He rubbed his big hands all over him, soothing him, encouraging him to keep moving.

Every time Quentin moved his hips, he sunk down just a fraction of an inch more, filling Eliot with impossibly good sensations that tingled and buzzed under his skin. Q didn’t even need to get all the way down; this was amazing already and the fact that he had taken his time only made it feel more exciting.

They held onto each other and kept breathing and moaning, gently touching while Quentin chose when and how to move. And the whole time, El kept thinking that he couldn’t believe this was happening, that they were here together, feeling this way about each other. It was incredible.

“Q,” Eliot said when something important occurred to him, brushing Quentin’s silky hair back out of his face.

In response, a panting, sweaty Quentin made an adorable sound that was halfway between a moan and a question.

“Quentin, baby. You did it,” El called attention to the space between them as Q closed it, fully seating himself against Eliot’s body.

“Holy fucking shit,” Quentin let out a giddy laugh as he looked down. And when he peered back up, he found El looking right back at him with the most honest, loving expression. Eliot was completely enamored with this sweet, wonderful man who had been so vulnerable and brave with him and Eliot was absolutely finished with his ill-advised attempt to conceal that.

Apparently, El was also past the point of being able to sit still, so he arched forward and kissed Q right on the mouth, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He just barely held back the urge to buck up into the incredible warm-wet spot where they connected, but luckily Quentin got right back to taking care of that, thrusting and tilting and swirling his ass right up against Eliot.

The two of them had gone absolutely feral; no amount of moving or pulling or licking into each other’s mouths was enough. They chased that clawing, burning instinct to get more of the indescribable pleasure they were both feeling from the contact. They needed _more._

So once Eliot was willing to take a quick breath, he pulled back from Q’s lips and breathed out the word, “Ready?”

It occurred to him that Quentin probably didn’t know exactly what he was agreeing to but he nodded _immediately,_ so trusting and brave and good, willing to follow Eliot wherever he wanted to lead them. And then El grabbed on tight and flipped them both over, thrusting his incredibly hard dick again and again into the perfect space Q had carved out just for him as soon as he was in a position that let him do it.

Quentin laid back and cried out, “Oh _fuck,_ Eliot,” and brought his hips up off the bed to meet him every time.

“You feel fucking incredible. Are you okay?” El breathed into Q’s ear, then he lightly bit at it. He couldn’t resist. Eliot was completely overcome with how much he loved him. El _loved_ him.

“Yeah, _fuck_ yeah, _Jesus,_ ” Quentin practically yelled, like he almost couldn’t believe the way he was feeling. His strong hands were pawing over every part of Eliot he could reach, combing through his hair and squeezing his shoulders and wrapping around his back so he could pull him in even closer.

El suddenly became incredibly aware that he was going to come soon if he didn’t slow down, and given that he had no intention of doing that, he reached down between them and took hold of Quentin’s dick. He stroked it expertly in his hand as he fucked him, giving it a few good, full pumps from base to tip, catching and spreading around the precome that was already starting to dribble out of the slit.

Eliot came first, despite his attempts to bring Q along for the ride, and it was completely Earth-shattering for a few solid seconds. But as soon as he regained the ability to move, he rode the rest of it out as he finished off the best hand job he could rally for his boy. At least this particular timing gave him the ability to hold Quentin close, watch his gorgeous face, and dote on him as he came, stroking his hair and speaking sweet nothings to him.

As they both came down from the absolute high, they found themselves tangled up in the pale pink and orange light that the sunset had started to cast through the windows. Eliot adored the way Quentin fit so perfectly against him with his head tucked under his chin.

“How do you feel?” he asked Quentin, dragging the pads of his fingers along Q’s arm.

Q was wrapped in his arms, clinging to Eliot’s chest with his head tucked just under El’s chin. He fit there _perfectly._

“Loved,” Quentin replied simply, letting the ridiculously brave word hang in the air where they hovered above the island, just the two of them.

El could have panicked. He could probably have come up with some kind of clever joke in response. But instead, Eliot pulled him in tighter and said two words that frankly should have terrified him in this context.

“You _are._ ”


	9. Home Again

Later that night, after getting dressed and eating dinner and showering and getting dressed again, Eliot was enjoying the way the glow of the bonfire lit up Quentin’s face. He watched the corners of Q’s perfect mouth turn up, casting tiny shadows into those gorgeous dimples as the fire kept them warm against the coolness of the ocean breeze.

Margo was sitting behind Q, combing her fingers through his impossibly soft hair. Of course, the moment she learned that the boys had finally talked everything through, Margo asserted her ongoing claim that she and Eliot were a package deal. Quentin didn’t seem to mind being shared, as long as El didn’t wander too far off.

Eliot had no plans to wander, so here he sat, lounging on the beach, holding Q’s hand, and listening to his two favorite people in the world bickering.

“I honestly think you’ve got to go with two,” Margo reasoned.

Q probably knew deep down that resistance was futile, but he tried anyway. “I really don’t think I need...”

“Hold still, won’t you?” Margo laughed as she parted his hair into two sections and began French braiding one of them while Quentin held as still as he could.

That gave Eliot a less than innocent idea, especially since Q was already trying not to squirm; of course the guy had a much harder time restricting his movement now that he’d been asked not to move. So Eliot began slowly dragging the fingers of his free hand up and down Quentin’s arm, starting at the heel of his palm.

“Is this going to look silly?” Quentin pouted as he let Margo have total control over his hairstyle.

“It’s going to look cute, but if you move, I’ll have to start over,” she said, twisting pieces of his hair together and grabbing new sections to add.

At first, Q’s arm occasionally fidgeted, shivering a little whenever Eliot dragged his fingers over a particularly sensitive spot. Quentin firmly squeezed Eliot’s hand where it sat entwined with his in his lap in response. Eliot’s face took on a satisfied grin as he continued to pet Quentin softly.

Q’s eyes fluttered shut as a little smile took over his face and Eliot drank in everything about this moment. The three of them were the only ones sitting next to the heat of this particular bonfire, but other groups were gathered nearby on the beach in various levels of undress. Stars lit up the sky above them and occasionally, someone would cast a spell that sent colorful lights shooting across the sky.

“Alright Eliot, switch spots with me; I’ve gotta reach the other side,” Margo said as she carefully tied off one of the braids.

“So demanding,” he said fondly, gently letting go of Quentin’s hand so he could get up and relocate. This time, he laid down and put his head in Quentin’s lap, hooking his arm around Q’s thigh where he continued his self-imposed task of lovingly caressing someone who had been told to stay still.

This was really all Eliot needed; the two people who mattered most to him in the world, a beautiful place, and enough time to enjoy them both without life getting in the way too often. As he rubbed little lines up and down the denim of Quentin’s jeans with his fingers, he looked up at the two of them as they laughed at some joke Eliot had missed.

Margo was right; Quentin did look cute with his hair in two French braids. But Eliot might have been biased.

* * *

“This is so much better than Brakebills South,” Quentin said with a stretch and a yawn as he laid out in the sun on the beach the following day.

Eliot let out a chuckle. “You say that like there’s any comparison at all,” he said, brushing some sand off of the blanket they were sharing. Then, he returned his gaze to the man lying beside him. Quentin was absolutely beautiful, inside and out.

“I just... two weeks ago I was walking naked through a frozen tundra after my creepy professor set me up with Alice, and that whole thing ended in a very awkward conversation about fox sex,” Quentin swallowed, stopping to take a breath. He looked down at the blanket between them where Eliot’s hand rested, then took it in his and gripped it tightly. “And now I’m in this gorgeous, warm place and it’s way less miserable and I’m happy and I’m relaxed and... I get to be with _you_.”

In response, Eliot turned onto his side and leaned down to kiss Quentin’s bare belly, just below his navel. “Don’t forget the naked part. You’re also naked here,” Eliot pointed out, baring his teeth and lightly nipping at that lovely little stomach basking in the sunlight.

Quentin was seized by a sudden peal of laughter, picking up his heels and pulling his knees closer to his body. So ticklish. “Oh, right,” he said sarcastically when he had caught his breath. “Now I remember.”

Both of them were undressed already; Eliot had wanted to sunbathe at least once on this trip and clearly, the best way to avoid tan lines was to head to a Yellow beach where clothing was optional. And while he wasn’t making up that particular desire of his, the fact that it meant he’d get to check out Q’s body in the daylight was an added benefit.

“I’m really glad that you’re happy here,” Eliot said, taking on a quieter and more serious tone.

“With you,” Quentin added for him, settling into a sincere, closed-mouth smile with dimples for days. “I’m happy here with _you_.”

And, well, Eliot couldn’t contain himself and he rolled the rest of the way over so he could kiss the fuck out of that adorable face. The fact that he could finally let himself have this, that he could want someone so badly and still find the courage to tell them that, was so far out of his normal realm of options and it felt _good_. It was maybe still a bit scary, but the payoff had certainly been worth the risk so far.

They calmed down after a good, thorough make out session and eventually settled into a cozier position on the blanket, with Eliot’s arm wrapped around Quentin and Q’s head resting on his bare chest. Eliot could certainly handle a few tan lines if it meant he could have this kind of closeness.

As Quentin looked up at the bright blue sky, he took a deep breath and then slowly let it out, the remaining bit of tension seeming to drain from his body. He had been so tightly wound from the moment Eliot met him and now was finally letting himself relax.

So naturally, it seemed like a good time to tease him mercilessly. “Do you think Mayakovsky would turn us into foxes together so I could find out what all the fuss was about?” Eliot asked.

“Eliot!” Quentin whined, scrunching up and hiding his face in El’s side.

“Seriously, the pheromones _alone_ -”

“No way. Absolutely not,” Q said, trying to stop laughing so he could attempt to communicate anything other than how clearly smitten he was. Eliot couldn’t believe that it had taken him so long to see it.

“Come on, I just want _one_ peek inside your little fox pants,” Eliot whined.

“I’ll _show_ you what’s in my...”

“Easy there, Coldwater. Tone it down. We don’t want to end up in sex jail again,” El scolded playfully with a smile that was miles long. He could just barely tell from this angle that Quentin was blushing up a storm and he worried for a moment that maybe he’d gone too far. Then, Q’s fingers started tracing these affectionate little patterns on Eliot’s tummy and he figured that meant Quentin was alright.

They both quieted down after that, knowing that they couldn’t take things below the belt here; they’d already learned their lesson earlier in the trip. Eventually, they could relocate, but this was really nice. Just talking and kissing and being close like this with the sunshine warming their bodies felt _incredible_.

“I _am_ up for trying other stuff. You know, uh. Magic-wise,” Quentin mentioned shyly. 

Eliot felt that familiar flutter in his stomach. “Sex magic, you mean?” he clarified.

With a nod, Quentin snaked his arm around Eliot’s middle and pulled him closer.

“That can _definitely_ be arranged. Let me think on it and we’ll find something you’re excited about, okay?” El asked, warmth curling around deep in his gut at the thought of trying out some weird, intimate spells with Q.

“Okay,” Quentin said sweetly, pressing his lips onto Eliot’s chest.

He was so fucking _cute._

* * *

As they got closer to the end of the week, Encanto Oculto got more and more colorful. Magical art installations appeared overnight, becoming bigger and more progressively disruptive in the lead-up to the big event on the final night.

Usually, the art came in the form of extra decorations or music, but Quentin seemed to really like the magical adjustments to nature that the team of staff artists had cooked up. Eliot, who hadn’t left his side for several days, got to witness every delightful moment that Q noticed something new. This kind of magic, the type that specifically endeavored to make the world more beautiful, never seemed to get old for Quentin. Eventually they started seeking it out; going outside first thing in the morning and trying to find the new wonders that had been added overnight.

On the second-to-last full day of the trip, they came upon a pool area that had been enchanted to maintain a pouring rainstorm above it. Large, floating umbrellas hovered above some of the empty lounge chairs and hammocks, but it was clear that this weather choice was intentional so most of the area was left unprotected. It seemed that they were the first people to happen upon this particular installment, because they were the only folks around.

“You know, a lot of this year’s art is quite good, but sometimes I look at displays like this and I start to think they’re getting lazy,” Eliot said, shrugging at the artificial storm from just outside its borders where the weather was still dry and sunny.

Quentin, however, reached in and let the raindrops fall onto his hand. He smiled a little and commented, “It’s the perfect temperature.”

“Well, someone decided it needed to be here so I’d hope they would -” Eliot started, his sentence abruptly cutting off as he watched Q strip down, throwing his clothes on the dry ground. Then, Quentin ran right in under the green banners without letting El’s jaded criticism damper his enjoyment at all.

At first, Eliot thought this was going to be some kind of sexy thing, but Quentin was splashing around in the puddles and full-on dancing in the rain. For whatever reason, this particular display of magic brought out the closest thing Eliot had ever seen to Quentin’s carefree side. He wasn’t self-conscious, wasn’t nervous, wasn’t holding back. Q looked happy. _Really_ happy.

“Come on, Eliot!” Quentin called, laughing and spinning around.

Well, Eliot certainly wasn’t going to say no to the soaking wet, naked, _radiant_ man calling his name. He took his time unbuttoning his shirt, realizing just how big his own smile had gotten after a minute of watching this. And as soon as he had folded their clothes into a neat pile, he headed in.

Quentin was right; the rain felt a lot more pleasant than the traditional kind. It didn’t bring the same kind of unshakable bone-deep chill that you typically got from being consistently drenched. And the sunshine somehow made its way through; this storm didn’t have the usual gray gloom either.

Even though it didn’t seem like it would be possible, Q’s smile grew even wider as Eliot jogged over to join him. Quentin spun his hands and fingers into a tut that turned up some music just for them, then held out his hand for El to take.

Eliot grabbed hold and reeled Quentin in, then wrapped his other arm around him and took the lead. They danced along with “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles, hopping in the puddles with their bare feet and laughing.

Their eyes met briefly as their movements slowed and Eliot felt a burning warmth low in his stomach. He thought about how fucking _lucky_ he was that this man wanted him back and that he didn’t let Quentin slip away when his brain was begging him to run.

“God, Eliot. You’re so beautiful,” Quentin said, eyes darting all over Eliot’s face; he gazed at his hazel eyes, his cheekbones, and his prominent nose before finally staring at his mouth.

In response, Eliot’s usual steadiness wavered. He drew Quentin in closer regardless, keeping one hand on the small of his bare back. “Can’t say I disagree, even considering what I know this weather is doing to my hair,” Eliot joked, then followed it up with some sincerity. “But I... _fuck,_ the fact that you think so... it means a lot to me.”

He left it at that, not wanting to get into the heaviness of his past and the way he had unintentionally tied his self worth to how perfectly he could dress and style himself when other people were around. Eliot had become good at crafting the exact image he wanted people to see, but in the moments when that armor fell away, he had to admit that he sometimes struggled. It was rare for Eliot to find someone who could see him for who he really was and who wanted to stick around anyway.

“Is it bad that I... can’t go five minutes without wanting to throw myself at you?” Quentin said, eyes going dark as his tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip.

The corner of Eliot’s mouth twitched up into another smirk. “Well, we are dancing naked in a rainstorm right now. It is, despite my sensibilities, romantic,” El said. Then, he reached up and combed Quentin’s dripping wet hair out of his face with his fingers.

Suddenly, something came over Quentin and he was full-on laughing.

“What’s so funny?” El asked with no heat behind it; clearly, he had missed something.

“Sorry, the um. The rain - it tastes like cotton candy,” Quentin said with another bright as hell smile. Then, Q licked his lips again and his expression shifted; he was all puppy dog eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

Eliot felt that question deep in the darkest recesses of his soul; no matter how many times they’d kissed this week, having Quentin ask for permission like that sent a staggering pit of warmth straight through him. “Of course, baby,” he cooed, leaning down so Quentin could surge up close.

Q took Eliot’s face in his hands and gently gave him open-mouthed kisses all over his cheeks and forehead, tasting the sugary sweet water as he went. Then, finally, he pressed his mouth up against Eliot’s wet lips so, so gently, like he was something precious.

They fucked on a double-wide chaise lounge by the pool, right under the constant shower of cotton candy-flavored rain. Eliot got to test his theory that Quentin might be exceptionally bendy; he’d managed to get one of Q’s legs up over his shoulder for some of it, giving him a really good angle. Somehow, the magical storm didn’t interfere with their lube spell at all, letting them keep things nice and slippery where they needed to be.

After Eliot came, he pulled out and bent down so he could take Q’s cock into his mouth and help him finish. The thought occurred to Eliot that even though he was a particular fan of the taste of dick, the sugary flavor of the rainwater _was_ a nice touch.

When they were satisfied with their romp in the rain, they rinsed off in the pool and then left the boundaries of the spell, emerging from the storm completely dry.

* * *

Encanto Oculto always ended with a bang (several kinds, in fact), culminating in a celebration that pulled out all the stops on the final night of the festival. There was live music, magical fireworks, and buffets full of incredible food.

As Eliot walked along a stretch of art booths with his arms draped around Quentin and Margo, he took in the sights and sounds around them with intentional, laser-like focus. He didn't even want to think about going back to Brakebills the next day, not while they still had hours left to enjoy this paradise. Luckily, the party was a pretty great distraction.

He looked down at his best friends in a pleasant buzz from the extra drinks he had at dinner, so happy to be in their company. Quentin had even allowed Margo to choose his clothes for the evening, which had been a real joy to witness. She may have also applied a few tailoring spells to Q’s wardrobe because his ass was looking even better than usual. Upon seeing the final outfit reveal, Eliot pretty much lost his shit. _He gets to have this._

So for the entire night, El wanted nothing more than to attach himself to Quentin and he was delighted when Margo agreed to join them rather than pursuing another sexual conquest, at least for the first hour or two.

Most of the booths were accompanied by loud dance music and glittering lights. There were plenty of places nearby where folks could get some action, whether they wanted to do that in plain view or in the row of private tents set up along the quieter stretch of beach.

Eventually, they reached an area where the vibe was considerably more chill and romantic than the high energy of the rest of the resort party. Margo seemed interested in going to the bar up on the left, so she slid out from under Eliot’s grasp and squeezed his hand.

“Next round’s on me. I’ll be back in a few,” she said, giving the boys a wink and heading over to order drinks for them.

“Thanks, Bambi,” Eliot said, then he looked down at Q who was taking in his surroundings, sweet brown eyes darting all over. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” El added, because to be honest he wanted a little attention and he had Quentin all to himself for at least a few minutes.

Quentin looked up with a tiny flicker of surprise, like he hadn’t expected anyone to notice him while he was clearly stuck in his thoughts. “Oh! I um, y’know. I guess I’m kind of coming to terms with the fact that the trip’s almost over,” he admitted.

“Mmm,” Eliot nodded in agreement. “My first time here, I considered missing the portal home on purpose. Running away with the circus, if you will.”

“Actually, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something. Can we... here,” Quentin said, grabbing Eliot by the forearm and pulling him off to the side where there were less people walking by. He clearly had something to say that he was nervous about; Q had gone back to avoiding eye contact and fiddling with his hands.

Eliot could feel his heart beating in his ears. He very rarely fared well in emotion-heavy conversations and it certainly seemed like this one would be heading in that direction. He swallowed and waited anxiously for Quentin to spit out whatever he had to say.

“Hey so um, when we go home. I know we’ve gotten really close this week... El, I don’t know how to say this,” Q started, taking a pause to breathe that was not at all helpful for Eliot’s tendency to imagine the worst in situations like these.

_Oh God, is this a breakup?_ Eliot had been waiting for this, gently considering the possibility of it in the back of his mind, and here it was. Quentin must be trying to figure out how to untangle whatever this was before he gets back to Brakebills and has to be seen with Eliot. The guy looked scared shitless. He couldn’t even look Eliot in the eye right now. But then, Quentin finally found the words and continued his train of thought.

“I _really_ want to be with you. El, I don’t want this to end when we get home. If that’s not what you want, that’s... um, it’s okay. I just, I needed to put that out there because I think I’ll explode if I keep wondering whether you’ll still want to be with me when we’re not at a magic sex festival anymore,” Quentin said, and then those lovely eyes darted up and looked into Eliot’s, silently begging him to say yes.

A colossal weight lifted off of Eliot’s shoulders as soon as he realized that Quentin was asking for the exact opposite of what he’d expected.

“Q,” Eliot said fondly, a soft smile taking over his face. “Fuck, you’re brave,” he added with a relieved laugh, bending down to grab ahold of Quentin’s shoulders and look into his eyes.

“Not really?” Quentin offered, blushing. “I’ve been kind of afraid to ask.”

Eliot brought one hand to Quentin’s cheek, gently rubbing his thumb along that delicious blush. “I would really like for this to continue even when we’re home,” El said. “The sex _and_ the rest of it.”

Eyes glittering, Quentin carefully studied Eliot’s expression, making sure that he really meant it. Then, he leaned in and kissed El briefly before he pulled back and let out the breath he’d been holding.

“There you are. For a minute there, I thought you two had bailed on me for one of those tents,” Margo said, ready to hand off two of the three drinks she was balancing.

Q’s face lit up and he reached over to help her with the handoff before taking a sip. “Mmm! That’s really good. Thanks, Margo!” he said, earnest as ever.

Eliot could not remember a time when he had been in a relationship with a man who so wholeheartedly accepted Margo into his life the way that Quentin had. Despite El’s history of eventually fucking everything up, he let his mind drift towards the idea that maybe, just maybe, this beautiful, wonderful, terrifying thing they had between them would actually _work._

* * *

When the three of them stepped through the portal that brought them right back through the main entrance of the Physical Kids Cottage, Eliot’s eyes had to adjust to the dim light. After a week of bright sunshine and white sand, the dark greens and browns of their home at Brakebills would take some getting used to.

The portal sealed up behind them with a sound like the echo of a wind chime and they all headed upstairs to put their suitcases away. Margo’s room was first, so she uttered a quick, “See you at dinner!” before kissing Eliot’s cheek, then Quentin’s, and then she shut herself inside.

That left Eliot in the hallway with Quentin, who was still trying to shake off the incredibly cute blush that Margo’s kiss had left on his cheeks. He dropped his beat up duffel bag onto the floor just inside his room, then he looked up at Eliot as if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. “I’m a little tired - I think I could use a nap,” Quentin said with a thoughtful crease forming between his eyebrows. “Is portal lag even a thing?”

“My bed’s free,” Eliot breathed out in a bit of a hurry, immediately taken aback by the way his heart had started to race. “If you... want to take a nap up there. With me,” he added, swallowing.

Quentin’s entire face lit up. “O-okay!” Q said with a kind of relief that suggested he was hoping Eliot would ask. “I’d really like that.”

All it took was for Eliot to lift up his arm in invitation and then Quentin enthusiastically became a warm weight pressed up against his side, hugging him tightly. The corner of Eliot’s mouth quirked up into a little smile before he leaned down to press a soft kiss against Quentin’s forehead.

And with that, they headed to the end of the hallway and up the stairs to Eliot’s attic room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end! Thanks for coming along on this wild ride with me. I hope that you enjoyed it!


End file.
